


City of Seoul(s)

by Misunkun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Asexuality Spectrum, Blood Magic, Blood and Violence, Dieselpunk, Drama & Romance, Fate & Destiny, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magical Realism, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Rituals, Soulmates, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misunkun/pseuds/Misunkun
Summary: Magic is not for the faint-hearted. Witches are not allowed to survive. A shattered world is not as it once was. Luckily for Jongin, fate decides he doesn't have to face any of this alone.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai
Comments: 19
Kudos: 111
Collections: EXO MONSTERFEST 2020





	City of Seoul(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Monsterfest 2020. To the mods and their endless patience and encouragement - thank you; to the prompter who caught my attention - I hope I have done this justice; and the readers about to enter this world - I hope you enjoy the adventure!

The decrepit bar top is sticky. Jongin drags a fingertip long the woodgrain with a distasteful twist to his mouth; he’s sure a decent empath would be able to siphon off the decades of solo-drinking misery and countless stag night cheer imprinted into the beer-stained cracks. All Jongin gets is a vague, splintery tug against his skin and a snag of something he really hopes isn’t gum.

The black cat sitting on the edge of the bar to his left doesn’t seem impressed with the way Jongin is currently propped against the wood either. If felines could manage magic Jongin is sure he’d have been forcibly levitated out by now. As it is, the poor thing is stuck watching him drink.

Jongin raises two fingers in the bartender’s direction - a thin, weedy man with a jacket covered in patches; both the garment and the wearer have seen better times. But then again so has almost everyone these days.

The bartender glances at him and shakes his head, answer clear. He’s been cut off.

Jongin scowls, bottom lip puffing out. He waits a few moments then stretches up, reaches over the bar and scrabbles around until his fingers find a bottle neck. With a discreet look around he latches on and tugs the glass casing of amber liquid back towards himself, settling back onto his stool. His other hand knocks over one of the shot glasses in his accumulated pile, but he manages to at least salvage another and slops some of the whisky into it. Half of the pour makes it in at least.

He’s just settled the bottle back on its base when a large hand clamps down across his wrist. Jongin frowns down at it; the heavyset fingers are preventing the alcohol from being raised to meet his mouth. The stern voice attached to the hand sounds exactly like Jongin imagined it would.

“Rickers said no more.”

Jongin sighs. He gives a little tug on his trapped wrist and -unsurprisingly- finds it immovable. “I was just enjoying a quiet drink.”

“You’ve had enough.”

Jongin slips one leg down and he’s rather proud of only the tiny wobble when his boot hits the floor; ending up dangling from his wrist would have been rather embarrassing. “I’m not bothering anyone.”

Glancing up shows the man the voice belongs to. As tall as Jongin, easily more jacked and half a hand wider at the shoulders, this boy is _big_. Dark eyes lock with Jongin’s.

“Doesn’t matter. We don’t want trouble. Rickers has his liquor licence on the line if the council gets wind of anything.”

That resonates. Jongin attempts what he hopes is a suave smile. “And what makes you think I’ll be trouble?”

The man’s eyes flick to Jongin’s waist and the trench coat he’s foolishly allowed to hang open in his maudlin desire to be left alone. Specifically, to his waist. Jongin winces as the man stares blatantly at the small ampules pinned to his belt.

“Witches are always trouble.”

Using the man’s momentarily shifted focus as advantage Jongin wrenches his wrist free, seeing the glass he’d been holding topple over with a pang of loss. Still he flicks his coat closed, the black material hiding his spells from view. “Not that it’s any of your business but I’m looking for someone. _Not_ in that way,” he adds as the man starts to bristle. “Just to talk. I’m not here to cause a scene.”

“And if I don’t believe you?”

Jongin sighs. “ _Then_ we’re going to have some trouble.”

The big man’s face -which is decent as far as faces go, Jongin supposes- folds into a frown. “Get out.”

“Oh now come on-” Jongin tries to stand up as the hand shoots out again, trying to latch on a second time as he’s abruptly hauled to his feet by his coat lapel. A voice calls out from behind the bar.

“Shownu. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Jongin looks up the arm and to the man it connects with. Shownu’s entire eyes are significantly darker than a second before and he’s… Jongin swipes up a hard knee and the other man is forced to let go to block it before it connects with his stomach.

He’s growling.

Jongin backs up a step, hands raised. “No need to get all shifty.” He ducks as he’s lunged for, sidestepping the bulk that comes towards him. “Council will sniff that out too, natural or not.”

“You’re endangering us all by having your magic here. _Leave_. Now.”

Jongin’s feet don’t move quite as elegantly as he wants them to and he manages only another wobbly step before he‘s cornered beside a nearby door. Shownu’s big palms thump into the cheap plaster on either side of Jongin’s shoulders as he snarls.

“Hey!” Jongin snaps both hands up and shoves the thick forearms apart. “Enough with the theatrics, okay? I don’t have time for any pack mentality bullshit. I-”

It takes the proximity for Jongin to realise he’s suddenly made a grave mistake. Shownu’s simmering posturing suddenly turns into a genuine flash of anger and _that’s_ when Jongin knows he’s actually fucked up. He expected wolf automatically. It’s the most common shifter magic. But only now up in Shownu’s face does he see that his eyes aren’t the rich, deep amber Jongin was expecting.

Instead he’s just accidentally insulted Shownu’s parentage. And probably his whole lineage for good measure.

Oh. Fuck.

Jongin braces himself but it’s about as good as trying to withstand a hurricane as he’s forcibly yanked away from the wall and shoved hard enough to break the lock on the flimsy door nearby. He ends up sprawled onto his back in the dirty alleyway that lies beyond; the stained gravel cuts sharply into his coat as he slides along it and Jongin curls his lip in pain as Shownu steps through the doorframe and advances.

“Look I’m really sorry.” Jongin holds up a hand, waving it. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

“You’re a witch,” Shownu replies in a strangely… resigned tone of voice. “It’s all your kind ever do.”

“You must’ve met some bad witches,” Jongin manages, rolling over to his hands and knees so he can shakily stand. He’s pretty sure he’s going to be sore in places he’s not yet aware of by tomorrow. “Don’t worry, I’d probably throw me out a door too if that were the case.”

Shownu pauses for half a step at that, looking confused. Jongin offers him a shrug, dusting himself off.

“But it’s okay. If you’re really itching for a fight I can give it to you. Isn’t that what we witches are known for?” Sliding his hand to his hip, Jongin subtly squeezes a tiny ampule until it shatters between his fingers and palm. The magic bursts to life, racing into the new, tiny bloodied cuts and absorbing into his system. Jongin exhales, shaking his head as it floods his system, flushing out the alcohol and leaving him clear-headed and sober. “But if it’s worth anything I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Shownu crosses his arms (and that just gives Jongin some serious bicep envy). “You may talk differently,” he shoots back. “But even your presence is dangerous.”

“Just passing through.” Jongin’s bloodied hand slips up past his shoulder, crooking back behind his neck. He draws out the long knife he keeps there in a spine sheath, the sound of spellcast metal against leather loud in the small space. “Let me go about my business and I won’t bother anyone. I’m not here for a mark. Just a person.”

“And what happens when you find them?”

“That’s none of your business to be honest. But I just want to talk to him.”

“Why the hells should I believe you?”

“Because I haven’t killed you yet?”

That makes Shownu scoff. “I don’t have to even shift to cave your skull in.”

“Now that’s just-” Jongin throws himself to the left as Shownu swings a punch that whistles past where his head had been a millisecond before. “Hey! We were talking here.”

“Your hand!” Shownu sounds equal parts horrified and furious. “You’ve _cast_.”

“You’re not giving me many options here and I’m sure as shit not fighting unless I’m sober.” Jongin pulls a face. “Or do you kids not know about playing fair here in this city?”

“The council have eyes _everywhere_ here,” Shownu shouts back, a hint more horror creeping in to overtake his anger. “This isn’t some backwater town! You’ve just lit a flare right over us. You _idiot_.” He whirls, the hair on the back of his head rising in hackles. From where Jongin can see, Shownu’s shoulders bulge a little more under the shirt. But not in ways that show he’s flexing. These muscles, they’re… unnatural.

“Hey!” Jongin darts towards him, blade abruptly forgotten and limp in his hand. “If what you’re saying—if they really _are_ coming you need to get that under control. Don’t give them any reason to take you in. Let me handle this. I can. I’ll-” 

Shownu spins back around and Jongin stops dead still. The bigger man’s eyes are so dark brown they might as well be black. Pupils huge, eyes… sad. Jongin swallows.

“I’m sorry, okay? I really am. I didn’t think they’d be so sensitive to basic cantrips here—that’s all it was I swear. But you’ll get a pass, maybe a fine if they’re feeling reckless as long as you’re _not_ in beast mode when they get here. They won’t take you in; it’ll be me they want.”

“ _Idiot_ witch,” Shownu angles his head to one side then the other, jaw cracking as his skull fills with more teeth. “You know they won’t stop to pick out the real culprit; they’ll see a witch and take us both in. And this isn’t my first time with them. But it’s going to be my last and I won’t go down without a fight.”

The colour drains from Jongin’s face. Three strikes. That’s all the high council ever gives an individual in relation to any type of magic, even naturally occurring. Any more and it’s a spell-warded cell for life. Or worse. And by the dreadful sounds of things Shownu is about to cross that line. _Who has that many run ins with the law?_ Jongin scrambles for something to say, to do, to somehow stop what he’s so stupidly set in motion. It’s only his first day in the city for god sakes… he crossed into the ruined outskirts less than eight hours ago and-

An unearthly scream sounds.

Jongin attempts to shove Shownu back inside the broken doorway to the bar -to hide him maybe, he thinks stupidly- but even without his newly added bulk Jongin would have had an impossible time of it. But now as Shownu drops to all fours and his shirt splits down his spine in an eruption of viscous fluid Jongin grits his teeth. The shifter is right; the council’s single job is to temper all uses of magic in the known world, not to be diplomatic. They have it in for every kind of magic that’s not their own.

The council may not own the law but they enforce it through brute force. They sniff out magic. They punish it.

Jongin turns around to face down the alleyway. Gripping his knife hilt hard enough that droplets from his cut palm squeeze out to slide down onto the long blade, he closes his eyes and flicks his coat back off his opposite hip. The bloodcurdling sounds increase in volume and number, screeching closer.

_Concentrate. Their soulhounds will come for the most dangerous magic. Make the first spell count._

The whine of motorcycle tires is finally discernible with the screams. Jongin inhales, sliding his fingers back across the lines of ampules at his hip. From behind him he hears a low, deep growl.

“Get back inside shifter.” Jongin murmurs, setting his shoulders. “I’ve got this. They’ll want only me after I start casting.”

_Make it big. Make it dangerous. Make it—_

The air pressure in the alley changes abruptly, whirling into a vortex that kicks up every stray scrap of paper and empty bottle. Jongin flings an arm across his eyes as his long coat whips around him.

The sound of heavy wingbeats pushes through the wind, thick and massive. Jongin squints up as a shadow looms overhead, casting the thin space into temporary twilight.

He catches a glimpse of brown fur, of feathered wings that eclipse the sky and a flash of sharp fangs before a figure leaps down from the huge creature’s back, landing in front of Jongin with a thump.

It’s at that moment that the council riders screech around the mouth of the alley, hauling their awful, whining motorcycles to a stop. Souls power those infernal machines; Jongin knows this with a flash of bile. Their long lost screams are what he can hear in the engines. Every magic user the council manages to indict for charges that warrant worse than a spellbound cell is then nothing more than eternally tormented fuel…

The man in front of Jongin whips his head around. A bandanna covers his face, leaving only his eyes visible above the ragged material. “Shownu!” he snaps. The shadow overhead shoots off. “Get back inside and go out the front. Bucephalus will carry you home.”

A deep growl argues with him.

“You have a _family_. Get the fuck out of here.”

Jongin finally looks back over his shoulder. Amid the tattered remnants of his clothing Shownu stands on his hind legs, reared to his full height of ten feet. If he was big as a person, he is _impossibly_ huge when shifted. Only his eyes remain the same; dark, gentle and somehow sad when they lock onto Jongin.

No wonder he was insulted before when Jongin assumed wolf. Jongin winces. “Sorry big guy.”

He’s a _bear_. Claws, teeth and brown fur thick enough to stop a bullet. Shownu’s lips pull back into a snorting, rumbling whuffle but the new arrival pushes past Jongin to shove at one heavy paw as if it isn’t big enough to cleave off his own head in one swing.

“I’m _not_ explaining your death to your kids.”

With a flash of teeth Shownu drops down onto all fours just as a hideous whine pierces the air from the other end of the alleyway.

The soulhounds Jongin had been waiting for drip from the motorcycle engines, coalescing into skeletal canine forms like swirling liquid nitrogen at the feet of the council members atop the machines. Helmeted, faceless enforcers every one of them; Jongin hates the council nearly as much as most people do him simply for existing.

But he’s ready to do this, whatever the outcome. Whoever the stranger is Jongin doesn’t care, but as he turns back their eyes lock and Jongin’s breath does this funny thing in his throat as he’s about to speak because… Those eyes.

Their impressive, kohl-lined width narrows. “You too. Get lost.”

“What?” Jongin is about to argue because he _made_ this mess. He can fight his way out of it. He can-

A black-gloved hand lands in the centre of his chest with such force that Jongin can only grunt as he’s shoved bodily backwards (seriously this manhandling today needs to _stop_ ) to land in an ungainly sprawl. And then the stranger with the fascinating eyes whirls around as the hounds are released.

They streak up the alleyway like viscous ghosts, clawing themselves up and along the walls just as fast as they do the floor. Jongin struggles to stand but his chest feels like an ogre has just hit it. And ahead, alone, the figure stands looking at them.

Jongin’s heart thunders.

But then the stranger scratches something in the dirt with his foot, crouches to one knee and _slams_ both of his hands onto the filthy floor.

Jongin’s whole world heaves, jerks to one side and rolls like gravity has ceased to exist. The ground buckles beneath them all, ruptures and finally explodes upward in a force so unfathomly huge it sears chunks off the very walls of the buildings nearby. The soulhounds are bucked off mid-lunge.

Without a pause the stranger launches himself up and forward, running full pelt through the rubble, right past the hounds that howl and spin to follow the strongest source of magic Jongin has ever _seen_ displayed. The man crests one pile of stones just in front of the council members who are scrambling to withdraw weapons, leaps and strikes a flying punch across one helmet as he lands before sprinting off into the streets.

In a scream of unholy tires the entire gathering tears off after him, disappearing into the crowded mass of humanity beyond.

Jongin watches them go, stunned. Finally he thunks his head back onto the ground with a groan.

_What in the nine hells just happened?_

A tiny patter of paws trots up near Jongin’s temple as he’s contemplating this. With a resigned rumble the black cat licks an ear and Jongin finally realises he really should do the efforts of the incredibly brave stranger justice and pushes himself up onto his elbows. Time to do what he said and get as far away from here as possible before the riders return.

“Who the fuck was that?” he asks the empty alleyway. And nearly jumps out of his own skin when someone actually answers him.

“I’d consider yourself lucky.”

Jongin yelps and looks around. Where the cat had been now stands a tall figure, very much human. However a particularly feline smile is still in place, which Jongin finds himself staring at. The shifter raises his eyebrows.

“Not everyone can say they’ve been saved by Kyungsoo himself.”

“Wait.” Jongin thinks he might still be in shock after the enchanted earthquake. He presses one hand to his ear to get the tingles out. “Did… you say Kyungsoo? As in Do Kyungsoo?”

The shifter blinks before offering him a hand up. “How do you know his name? I’ve never seen you around here before. But you sure do bring trouble with you.”

Jongin accepts the help when perhaps an hour ago his ego wouldn’t have permitted it. Now… his world is a little to the left. Just like the broken alleyway. “Uh. Because,” he admits haltingly. “That’s who I came here to find.”

“Oh,” is all the shifter says. He looks thoughtful for a long moment before, “Why?”

“I heard he’s the best.” Jongin dusts off his coat and clothing. “And I want what the best can do.”

The shifter smiles wryly. “You’ve just seen what he can do. Happy?”

“I’ve also heard what he can make. For others.” Jongin sticks out a hand. “I’m Jongin by the way. Sorry for… everything. I didn’t know the council was so prominent here. I’ve not ventured into the cities much.”

“Jongdae.” The shifter eyes the outstretched hand for a long second before reaching out to meet it. His eyes drop to Jongin’s ampules as they shake. “Chaos follows witches. We’re generally less trusting.”

“I don’t wish anyone harm if I can help it.”

The leftover kitty smile hikes up in one corner. “Well that’d only be the second time I’ve heard such a thing. All witches take marks. Kill contracts.”

“I’m not here to do that, I promise. I haven’t taken a mark since I started my journey; I only intend to see Kyungsoo. And I’ll find a way to pay. I just want his services.”

Jongdae’s eyes narrow; Jongin gets the distinct impression he’s being carefully and meticulously studied. Finally the shifter speaks.

“Kyungsoo keeps an eye on those of us in his vicinity. Makes sure we’re as safe as we can be, I suppose. If you really want to find him I can tell you where. But be warned: if you meet him with any ill intent you won’t come off the victor. I can promise you that. He’s the most powerful witch I’ve ever known.”

Jongin nods so fast his hair tumbles into his eyes. If the rumours were true and _that_ really was Do Kyungsoo, magitechnician extraordinaire… Well, the whole journey had been worth it. “Please. I’ve crossed the wall to find him.”

Jongdae’s expression quickly turns to one of amazement. He glances around as if the very walls have ears. “No one has crossed the wall in more than a hundred years. You’re from the _north_?”

Jongin shrugs. Everything is slowly starting to hurt now that the shock is wearing off. “It’s a long story.”

“I like stories.” Jongdae half turns, gesturing back into the bar through the damaged doorway. “I also like when people help fix up my home.”

“You live in the bar?”

“Above it,” Jongdae corrects. “Rickers lets me rent the flat.”

“Is he a shifter too?”

“No, he just keeps a haven for us in here. A quiet place to remain undisturbed.”

“That explains your big friend wanting me out.”

Jongdae’s laugh is loud and strangely melodious. “Well you are a witch after all.”

“So I keep hearing.”

* * *

It was the eruption of the ley lines that broke the world; previously hidden veins of pure magic that split through continents and ruptured tectonic plates with such force that no one could ever trace the one origin point back to where it had all began. Not a person alive still remembers that time, but Jongin knows the stories his great-grandparents used to tell. Of the days when the dormant magic that had lain under the earth suddenly overflowed like awoken lava.

It was not long after that when the council members first appeared. Back then they had no collective status or name; they simply told the horrified, tattered remnants of the cities that they were the regulators of magic. All magic. In this world and every other. They offered only to help the battered survivors to keep the peace and assist in what would have to become law and order in a new, broken world.

For decades they kept watch over the uncovered ley lines that flowed like sparkling cracks across the land and enforced the new knowledge about it; that it was far too volatile and powerful to be allowed to be tapped. Only a select few amongst humanity were taught to utilise it safely and sparingly. They became the first of the mages.

The peculiar newcomers had by then been elevated to the status they would keep: of council members in the new world order; enforcers amongst humanity. Liaisons with law enforcement were made when necessary but the final decision stood with them. They were after all, in tune with the magic itself. They could… sense it.

That established peace lasted until the next generation was born. For not everyone had heeded the laws or been able to rein in their curiosity and over time tiny fragments of the liquid magic had been stolen, used, experimented with… Humans found a way. And so came the dark results of such meddling.

The vampires were the first. Loved ones resurrected in good faith but with terrible, hungry consequences unless controlled. Shifters became the most common; bloodlines infected from companies who experimented with combining magic and genetics until their children were unable to escape being born with the consequences. Succubi and incubi, the inevitable result of humanity’s abject obsession with sex, made their first spawn not long after. The fey fled in the far corners of the world and no one is quite sure how the elves came to be; some say they slipped into existence the moment the ley lines appeared -in the first days when the veins bled furiously like fonts- and simply hid until they deemed the time was right.

Even animals could not escape the traces of magic in the lands around the lines. Latent magic seeped into the water table and surrounding soil, twisting and misshaping those unfortunate enough to live close. Such mutations were often killed.

But all these paled in comparison with what was to come. The faults of humanity were given a three-strike pass when summoning their weakened brand of magic before being arrested and sentenced. The rest of the world that had huddled in their shattered cities agreed this was fair and just. Or they simply didn’t care. Humans still insisted they were the top of the power chain and turned a wilful eye to whatever ensured that.

Until the witches were born.

Humanity had been carefully allowed to dabble in tiny, bequeathed scraps of magic by its now-guardians. By the time Jongin came into the world the council held full control of all magic use in known society and meted out the harshest of punishments for its misuse.

But witches were entirely new and different. The first generation born that could _summon_ magic. They alone could create it, fashion it into weapons or wield it defensively in ways that could challenge the status quo. Even against the council themselves.

And for that they were hated.

* * *

Jongdae gives Jongin Kyungsoo’s address on a scrap of paper along with a clear warning to take every possible precaution to ensure that he’s not followed. Before he sets off Jongin remembers to ask if turning up unannounced at the powerful magitechnician’s workshop will result in his own head being blown off.

All that earns him is a kitty-like smile and a mysterious shrug. But Jongdae wishes him well, so that’s… a good sign.

Looking up now at the wind-swept façade of the former industrial building Jongin feels a mild sense of unease at how innocuous it appears. He’d expected a… coded sign or something. A discreet rune maybe. All that appears to be present is a battered, ominous hand painted sign that dangles from one of the cracked glass doors.

_Beware of dog._

Jongin isn’t sure if it’s a remnant of the before-times or not, but he carefully double checks the address before ripping the paper into miniscule shreds. Once it’s unreadable he drops it into an abandoned steel drum nearby and walks up the steps. This area of town is mostly deserted, showing clear signs of having once been repurposed for residential squatting post-eruption. Graffiti litters every surface and Jongin really hopes that the numerous spiderwebs dangling from the ceiling beams are created by the itty bitty kind and not any carrion crawlers that may still be skittering about the place. He undoes his long coat just in case, for easy access to his ampules.

A quick scout of the ground floor shows that it’s empty and so Jongin takes the back stairwell, carefully sidestepping the sections that the outside overgrowth has split open and claimed as their leafy own.

 _Who would live or work in such a place?_ Jongin can count on at least one hand the more semi-hospitable buildings he had passed on the way here, yet the magitechnician had chosen here. _There must be a very good reason…_

Jongin pushes open a crusted door marked ‘fire escape’ and peeks out onto the higher level. It’s a series of once-apartments. Jongin performs a check of the many grouped, bordered off rooms and almost turns around to climb higher when something catches his eye.

He carefully steps back several paces and watches the centre door in the row shimmer slightly. With a knowing smile Jongin reaches out and presses his palm against the ward.

A crackle of what feels like warm electricity caresses his hand and Jongin can recognise a sensing cantrip when he finds one, so he lets the minor spell taste his own blood magic before it fizzles out obediently.

Jongin finds he can now turn the handle.

Inside looks vastly different to what had lain outside in the hall. Past the doorway the innards of several apartments have been gutted out and shaped into one large space.

“Clever,” Jongin murmurs to himself, closing the door behind him with a faint click. The guardian warmth flickers to life once again, sealing the entrance.

Open beams crawling with herbs and plants of all kinds are bracketed with shelves containing boxes and every type of spell-worked crystal Jongin has ever imagined could exist. Along the floor is a maze of books and stacks of rolled up scrolls bound by ribbons. Occasionally a potion bottle peeks out from the clutter, each one subtly glowing with the different colour of its contents. A spiral staircase draped with vines ascends towards a hidden room to the left. Every possible inch of space has been utilised and Jongin picks his first few steps very carefully.

Even so a rustling sounds from in the distance and grows rapidly closer. Too small to be human Jongin knows so he tenses, one hand inching back towards his waist. If he has to make a run for it at least the door _should_ theoretically let him back out again…

A white puffball the size of his palm explodes from the debris and launches itself at Jongin’s boot, latching on with the tiniest series of growls he’s ever heard.

Jongin peers down. Reaching for it he plucks the newcomer off his shoe and holds his handful up. Three identical puppy heads blink up at him; one turns and licks his thumb.

Jongin laughs. “Beware of dog, huh?”

“I see you’ve met Cerberus.”

Jongin spins, puppy cradled against his chest. In one corner Kyungsoo straightens up, a pair of scrolls tucked under one arm.

“Uh, hi. Hello.” Jongin glances down at the magic-twisted pup. “Your terrifying guardian of the Greek underworld protected you as best he could but I’m afraid I bested him. Combat was fierce though.”

A flash of a smile curves Kyungsoo’s face before it disappears again. “The sign outside wasn’t for Cerberus,” he replies just as Jongin begins to pick up the ominous scraping of heavy chain links behind him. They drag closer and closer with each passing second and Kyungsoo lifts his chin in a calm indication. “It’s for Marshmallow.”

The dragging chain stops suddenly and a long, furious snarl splits the air. Jongin whirls around.

A huge hound salivates at the end of its heavy chain, eyes red as coals and cracked lips pulled back from it’s frothing fangs. Along its blackened skin where fur should be is split open like endless volcano cracks. Molten drops slip from them and pool around its paws as it advances and snaps once, sizzling deep singes into the floor.

Jongin yelps, jumping back a step. He instinctively reaches underneath his coat with his spare hand but a strong set of fingers wraps around his wrist, grip like iron.

“If you cast at any of my beasts,” Kyungsoo warns from behind him in a low, deadly voice. “The council will find your corpse at the base of this building.”

Jongin swallows, eyes locked on the hellhound. “Why on earth did you call it _marshmallow_?” he rasps. He’s in an entirely impossible situation but that’s the only thought going through his head.

Kyungsoo barks a laugh and the fingers release. “ _That’s_ your choice of final words to a witch who was about to kill you?”

“Your ward let me in,” Jongin breathes, chest tight. “So you know I’m one too.”

“I’ve killed witches before,” Kyungsoo murmurs, stepping around Jongin and up to the beast. “So you wouldn’t be the first. I won’t lose sleep over it.” Reaching out he runs a hand over the huge dog’s head, scratching behind a cracked ear. Instantly it stops growling and obediently settles, calm as a pup. The cracks in it’s hide close over in a gentle puff of smoke.

Jongin exhales. “I bet you get a lot of visitors. Who wouldn’t love this reception?”

Kyungsoo casts a look back over one shoulder at Jongin. He looks almost… amused.

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk a lot?”

“When I let them get a word in.” Jongin flashes what he hopes is a winning smile. “But I came here specifically to talk with you.”

Kyungsoo turns away and walks further into the crowded room. “Not interested. I’m sure you know how to let yourself out.”

“Hey—wait!”

Jongin inches around the gigantic hound who watches him with careful, coal-red eyes. Cradling the other dog to his chest he trots after Kyungsoo. Cerberus tries to nose up the end of Jongin’s sleeve, sniffing.

“I’ve come to you for a reason!”

“Everybody does.” Kyungsoo rounds the side of a large wooden desk and places the scrolls down amongst the overflow of other items there. “What makes you different?”

“Um,” Jongin holds out his handful of white fur. “Your other guard dog likes me?”

Kyungsoo’s cheek puffs up as he’s untying the scroll but he doesn’t raise his head. “If Cerberus didn’t like you he’d have eaten you by now. Marshmallow is the more placid one out of the two.”

Jongin looks between the tiny puppy and Kyungsoo sharply, trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth. “Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

Unrolling and pushing the sides of the scrolls apart Kyungsoo secures the ends with little paperweights, not once bothering to look up. “If I wanted to pull any part of you I’d drag you back out that door and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

That makes Jongin remember the alleyway and the unmitigated force Kyungsoo had displayed. He rubs at his still-sore breastbone absently. “I believe you.”

Kyungsoo gives a short nod. “Good. Cerberus probably won’t eat you then.”

Jongin very carefully places the puppy onto the floor and watches it promptly try to bat at one of his bootlaces. “Your magic includes geomancy.”

“Did the fact that I ruptured half a block give that away?”

The sheer, unbridled sass wrapped up in such an intriguing person is already piquing Jongin fascination. “I wasn’t expecting that but it was very impressive. I’m actually here to purchase your services.”

Kyungsoo reaches for a heavy tome and thumps it down beside his open scroll. “What does a witch from across the wall need from me?”

Jongin can’t help it; he startles sharply. “How did you know where I’m from?”

“You smell like raw magic,” Kyungsoo says simply, looking up at Jongin for the first time. “There’s almost none of that left here.”

“What—you mean the ley lines have been… I don’t know how to say it. Used up? They’re fonts. They were predicted to last generations.”

Kyungsoo looks thoughtfully at Jongin for long enough that he feels like he’s being sized up, thoughts read and judged. Finally Kyungsoo seems to come to some sort of decision because he nods. “Industrial scale illegal mining of the magic in this territory has stripped the veins almost dry in the last fifty years. If you’re not born with some form of it then your last resort is to buy some on the black market.”

Jongin looks around the workshop. “And that’s where you come in.”

Kyungsoo makes a humming sound. “And why the council is on such a hair-trigger here.” His mysterious smile makes an appearance for a split second. “As I’m sure you noticed.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Jongin’s hand goes unconsciously to his ear and he rubs it. “I didn’t get a chance to say thank you for saving my ass earlier.”

Kyungsoo lifts one shoulder, returning to flicking through the book. “I follow the magic. If it’s in the direction of anyone I care for then I’ll defend them as best I can.”

“I’d say your ‘best’ probably has you on their most wanted list by now. That’s some heavy magic you used.”

Kyungsoo nods as he tears a page off the tome, the ripping sound sharp in the large space. Holding it up to the light he examines it before folding it in very precise movements. All Jongin gets is a glimpse of ink-written runes before it’s artfully folded down into a small shape. He tries again.

“So those shifters in the bar… they’re under your protection?”

Kyungsoo turns to a crowded shelf behind him and pushes aside some potion bottles, searching for something. He has to rise on his tiptoes to see to the back and Jongin tries very hard not to find that kind of cute. After some clanking sounds Kyungsoo turns back around, a mortar and pestle in his hands.

“Shownu looks after a pack of street shifters. They’re a ragtag bunch but basically family. If anything happened to him they’d be hunted down within weeks.”

“And Jongdae?”

That actually catches Kyungsoo by surprise. “He showed himself to you? He doesn’t often do that with strangers.”

Jongin gives a shrug, palms up. “Must be my charm,” he replies blithely, offering another smile.

Kyungsoo places the folded paper into the mortar and checks something on his scroll, running a finger down the characters. “Are you flirting with me?”

Jongin laughs, which seems to take Kyungsoo by surprise for the second time in as many minutes.

“I wasn’t but trust me, you’ll know when I am.” This time Jongin lets all of his confidence show in his tone. He wasn’t born yesterday. 

Kyungsoo just scoffs quietly. “Jongdae must have been day drinking to think well of you.”

“Hey!”

Kyungsoo turns back to the shelf but this time Jongin thinks it might be to hide the beginnings of the smile he catches forming. (Also Kyungsoo produces the appropriate rummaging sounds but returns to the table with nothing new, only a faint pink tinge to the tips of his ears.) It makes Jongin feel warm inside to think that the infamous magitechnician can be flustered. He moves on smoothly.

“The reason I’m here is because your name is spoken even on my side of the wall. I want a weapon. Something imbued with magic.”

“You’re a witch. Why don’t you use your own magic?” Kyungsoo’s fingers dance along a row of tall glass tubes until he selects one that glows a very faint blue. He plucks it off the stand and tips it into the mortar atop the paper. It flows out like sparkling sand and Jongin watches it fall, fascinated. Pure, crystallised magic. He decides to be honest.

“Because where I’m from the council has begun concreting over the ley lines.”

Kyungsoo’s head shoots up. Jongin sweeps back his coat to display the vials against his belt.

“I’ve been distilling my magic to make for portable casting on the move. It seems to work on my side of the wall as less traceable, but apparently not so much here. There’s maybe a month’s worth before I have to distil more of it from my blood. If I’m going to keep taking marks then I’ll need something different to use. And magic-imbued weapons are so much harder for the council to track because they’re so rare.”

“I see.” Kyungsoo’s features are gentler when he looks confused. “Why concrete over the lines?”

Jongin frowns. “We’ve all been deemed too reckless by the council. The whole province. The council members there finally decided to shore them up so only they can have access if they choose.”

“That’s not what they said they were here to do.”

Jongin aims a long look at Kyungsoo. “And when have they ever truly done what’s been in humanity’s best interests? We don’t even know where they came from. Not truly.”

Kyungsoo looks thoughtful again. “Don’t let anyone hear you talking like that. It’s dangerous.” He plucks an unusual-looking flower from one of the vines growling along the side of his desk and drops it into the mortar. Picking up the pestle he begins to gently press the ingredients together. “So what type of weapon do you want from me?”

Jongin jumps in instantly. “Anything lightweight! Something silent preferably, but I can attempt to muffle the sound later if that isn’t possible.”

The mortar puffs out a small cloud of blue and white tinged smoke. “A sawn-off is out of the question then. Pity. I know where we could still get one,” Kyungsoo muses and Jongin‘s heart races because he’s actually being considered. He isn’t being thrown out. Kyungsoo seems to be taking his idea seriously. He-

“How will you pay?”

Jongin’s stomach drops. “Ah, I’ll work on that part. I have some money left on me but I used a lot to get past the wall. I didn’t want to take a mark here but if I absolutely have to-”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “No kill contracts. It’ll attract the council ten times worse. Their soulhounds can sniff out a witch’s mark on a corpse and it’ll send them into a frenzy searching for you.”

Jongin blanks, fidgeting. He scrambles to think of something, anything…

Kyungsoo glances from his scrolls to his handiwork. “How good are you at cleaning?”

“At what-”

A soft rustle of unearthly wind tickles Jongin’s nape. Without conscious thought he spins, hand reflexively going to the back of his neck to grab his blade hilt. “There’s someone outside.”

Kyungsoo clicks his tongue. “Are you always this jumpy? If they’re meant to come in the ward will allow it. We’re sound, light and magic-proof otherwise. It’ll take a bomb to get in here.”

Jongin has a second to wonder about the fact that Kyungsoo’s warding cantrip let _him_ in before that peculiar wind brushes past again. For some reason it causes Kyungsoo to hum in recognition and he steps around the desk.

“Relax your sword arm. It’s just Junmyeon.”

Jongin doesn’t lower his hold on his blade. “It’s a vampire.”

“ _It_ prefers its own name,” a teasing voice says from the deep shadows near the front door. “And _you_ are?”

“Wanting to know I’m safe,” Jongin replies carefully, talking a half-step in front of Kyungsoo before he’s even thought the move through. He’s greeted by a patient sigh and the newly-named Junmyeon steps forward into full view. He has a hand casually patting Marshmallow so Jongin begrudgingly lowers his arm.

“See?” Junmyeon smiles, flashing no fangs at all. Only the elder vampires are capable of such tricks; the newly turned don’t have such control over seeming human. If Jongin hadn’t learned to smell a vampire at a hundred paces he may not have picked up on Junmyeon’s heritage at all.

“Are you _sure_ your guard system works?” Jongin asks a little peevishly as Kyungsoo steps past him to greet the newcomer. “Between them your two dogs seem super friendly towards everyone.”

“One wrong step and _you’d_ have been eaten,” Kyungsoo replies sweetly, crossing over towards Junmyeon. “Does that make you happier?” he calls back over one shoulder.

Jongin closes his mouth. For some reason all that does is make Junmyeon smile wider. He shakes Kyungsoo’s outstretched hand happily and lifts his chin towards Jongin.

“He’s cute.”

From behind, Jongin can see Kyungsoo’s ears grow that fascinating shade of pink again.

“He’s here to annoy me and not pay apparently,” Kyungsoo replies gruffly, ignoring Jongin’s indignant squawk. “But what brings you here so early? The sun won’t set for another hour.”

Jongin chances a look at the tall windows along the opposite wall; the sunset is only just hinting at beginning soon. Junmyeon truly _is_ powerful to already be awake.

Junmyeon sighs, scrunching his nose. It’s a strangely human move for someone so old. Reinforced by how he runs his hand through his red hair; several millennia usually remove such mannerisms from vampires.

It’s… Jongin blinks. Kind of adorable, to be honest.

_Was everyone on this side of the wall not at all like back home?_

“I need your contacts for something that’s happened.” Junmyeon casts another quick look at Jongin before addressing Kyungsoo again. “Am I able to talk freely?”

Kyungsoo looks back at Jongin and for a split second is he… grinning? Jongin can’t help the jolt it gives him to see a full smile from the other man for the first time. It looks like a heart. Huh.

“Don’t mind him,” Kyungsoo says quickly. “If he talks I’ll put him upstairs with Bucephalus.”

 _Hang on.._. Jongin has heard that name before.

A heavy, feline yawn sounds from the rafters. The kind Jongin remembers from the few nature magazines he could scratch together when he was a child. The kind of sound that belongs to a very big cat.

Jongin tips his head back slowly. A pale scorpion tail swings from a wooden beam above, pointed tip distractingly fluffy. Following it along with his gaze Jongin attaches it to the owner; an immense tan lion that sprawls out in the fading sunlight along the beam. Two golden eyes blink open at the mention of it’s name and Bucephalus opens his jaws to yawn once more, black lips peeled back. With a rustle of leathery wings the manticore Jongin remembers briefly from the alleyway resettles itself.

“Is there anything you _don’t_ have hidden in here?” Jongin mutters. It makes Kyungsoo huff a laugh.

“You’ll find out if you ever accidentally step on something.”

Jongin automatically glances down at his feet. Cerberus waddles past with something that resembles a stick in one set of his jaws.

“I like him,” Junmyeon says softly. “He’s strangely naïve for a witch.”

“I feel like all I’ve done is be insulted since I arrived here.” Jongin crouches down and gestures for Cerberus until he trots back and Jongin tugs the stick away. There’s something strangely like a tiny foot attached to one end; he quickly flicks it into a pile of books. “Don’t eat that. You don’t know where it’s been.”

“Keep him,” Junmyeon stage-whispers.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “You needed to talk? About something _other_ than the witch?” he adds quickly.

Junmyeon looks affronted. “Didn’t you bother to learn his name?”

And Kyungsoo looks… abashed. He almost hunches, half-turning to look back at Jongin. “I was too busy,” Kyungsoo mutters. Embarrassment colors his words and his cheeks.

So Jongin flashes Kyungsoo a smile; the special kind that sends people scrambling over themselves to attend him at home. “You can call me Jongin.” He even bows slightly, sweeping his long coat out with just a tiny ounce of flair.

Junmyeon sighs like that’s a lovely introduction. Without looking back at him Kyungsoo slaps the master vampire’s chest with the back of one hand.

“Stop that. You’re being creepy.”

“It’s just you haven’t had a boyfriend in so long and he’s really so-”

With his still-upraised hand Kyungsoo snaps his fingers.

Junmyeon is cut off mid-sentence by the invoked cantrip. He gives Kyungsoo a death-glare that would send lesser demons running and utters something muffled behind pinned lips that Jongin is _sure_ contains swear words.

Kyungsoo repeats the move and quickly reverses the minor spell. “Your problem,” he repeats. “Please tell me what it is.”

“I found him missing when I came to start work.”

“Who?”

“My newest apprentice. Sehun.”

Jongin knows what that PR-friendly term means. Baby vampires; the newly turned. Only master vampires have the power to create more of their kind with their bite, but the progeny need attention and care for their first lunar cycle and must stay under their master’s wing. Drinking the blood of anyone other than their sire will break the still tenuous bond and illegally link the new vampire to another. It makes fresh, un-bonded vampires a very valuable commodity on the black market for the lesser undead.

Like pre-imprinted ducklings, only far less fluffy. And with notorious teething problems.

Kyungsoo is following along too. “He was snatched while he was sleeping?”

“I was going to wake him before my shift started but when I got to work the drawer was empty.” Concern fills Junmyeon’s voice; another unusual emotion that Jongin registers. Junmyeon continues, eyes worried. “He’s going to need to feed within the next few nights.”

“Junmyeon works for the county morgue,” Kyungsoo extrapolates rapid-fire for Jongin. “Nightshift supervisor.” He switches back to Junmyeon. “So you want me to my track him down? I can make it a priority.”

“That and more.” Junmyeon says immediately, his tone suddenly dropping away from the friendly demeanor that Jongin has witnessed so far and into something more… deadly. Ancient. “I want ammunition. Holy water-distilled and silver coated.”

The same cold, disconcerting wind that had lingered whips up once more and only now does Jongin realize that it was never a breeze at all; it’s pure, unfiltered power. And Junmyeon for the very first time looks every inch the master vampire Jongin had been expecting. The wind pulls the shadows from the corners of the room like a skeletal hand until the darkness seems to circle all three men like a specter; the beams overhead creak as if resisting an invisible force. Junmyeon’s pupils vanish.

“No one steals from me and lives. Name your price.”

Jongin resists the urge to rub his arms to soothe the goosebumps that have sprung up under his sleeves. Nearby a window pane cracks faintly like a gunshot.

Kyungsoo looks unruffled by the blatant display. “I’ll have your apprentice’s location and your ammunition by sundown two days from now,” he replies calmly. “You have my word.”

The sun is starting to sink outside. Junmyeon nods. “And in return?”

Kyungsoo glances back at Jongin thoughtfully, seeming to settle on an idea. Then he looks back to Junmyeon. “You have access to the precinct’s computer system. I want a first and second level magical-infringement stricken from the record of a friend. He’s a shifter and does good work; he doesn’t need the council breathing down his neck and he’s on his last strike.”

Junmyeon lifts his chin and takes a deep, unneeded breath; all of a sudden it’s as if a grip on all the air in the room is suddenly released and Jongin can use his lungs again. The power recedes and Junmyeon smiles, eyes human once more.

“You must really like this one,” Kyungsoo notes blithely as if nothing untoward had just happened and the roof wasn’t about to be dragged down on top of them all. “You don’t often get that overprotective.”

In a blink Junmyeon is bashful again and Jongin wonders if perhaps he went mad while crossing the wall and this is all a crazy fever dream.

“Sehun is unique.” Junmyeon says quietly. “I need him returned safely. I’ll expunge the record of your friend tonight if you send me their full name. The precinct officers won’t remember seeing me by morning.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

“Perhaps…” Junmyeon peeks around Kyungsoo at Jongin again. “You can let this one tag along?”

“Remember that time I turned you into a rabbit and told you I’d pull you out of a hat for children’s parties?” Kyungsoo asks pointedly, walking past the vampire and towards one of his overflowing scroll piles.

Jongin nearly chokes on his tongue while Junmyeon simply shrugs and his residual power wafts after Kyungsoo. “I’d make a very handsome bunny. But no thank you. I was just making a suggestion.”

Kyungsoo bats a couple of scrolls aside to try and find what he’s looking for and that prompts Jongin to speak up just as the shadow is reaching for a hair on the top of Kyungsoo’s head.

“You asked and I never answered. I can clean if you need. This place is pretty overcrowded with things.”

Kyungsoo looks over one shoulder as the power tugs playfully on his hair; he swats it away. “I don’t need a friend,” he says slowly. “You wouldn’t be here to experiment or do anything foolish. Just… tidy up a bit.”

Jongin nods so eagerly his bangs fall into his eyes. “Done.” The remnant of Junmyeon’s power sidles up and tidies his hair for him before dissipating. “If it’ll earn me a weapon I’ll do it.”

Kyungsoo gives a nod as Junmyeon brusquely walks past and pats him on the shoulder. “This pleases me. I’ll leave you two to it.”

He’s almost out the front door when Kyungsoo calls out in a resigned voice.

“Junmyeon?”

The vampire pauses. “Hmm?”

“Drop Cerberus before you leave.”

Junmyeon reluctantly turns around and sets the spell-wrought puppy he’d been cradling onto the floor. “One day you’ll let me take him for a walk.”

“Not in this lifetime.” Kyungsoo raises a hand and waves him goodbye. “I’ll be in touch with everything you need. I promise.”

Junmyeon’s hand rests on the door handle but he doesn’t close it behind him. “I want my revenge on whoever did this, Kyungsoo.”

“I know. You’ll have it.”

The sound of the door closing makes Jongin exhale like he’s been holding his breath. “So you just make friends with master vampires over here, huh?”

Kyungsoo locates his new scroll and brings it to his desk. “You make friends with whoever is friendly,” he replies simply.

“So what does that make me?”

Kyungsoo bites his smile down before he answers. “A cleaner.”

Jongin pouts at him.

* * *

Kyungsoo kindly lets Jongin stay upstairs in the loft for the next couple of days.

“Just until this business with Junmyeon is cleared, you’ve paid your way for your weapon and I can clean up the mess you got Shownu into.”

Jongin leans to look back down the open entrance at the top of the stairs. “Why is there a dragon’s egg sitting on the television?”

“I’m looking after it for a friend.” Kyungsoo calls back simply from his workbench. “The TV keeps it warm.”

“There’s a double bed up here.”

“And?”

“There’s dog fur on all of it. It must be your bed.”

“Are you going to yell out all your observations?”

Jongin shucks off his long coat. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“I’m—for god sakes come back down. I’m going to sleep on the couch down here.”

“I didn’t see one.”

“You haven’t moved the right pile of books,” Kyungsoo replies.

“You’re hopeless.”

“What?”

“You’re—never mind. I’m coming down.”

Jongin figures at least he’s not going to run out of things to do. Or clean. Kyungsoo in turn gives his fellow witch free rein to poke about and within the first couple of hours Jongin has found at _least_ three devices he’s sure are a combination of rare magic and old technology just lying around. The workshop is a treasure trove of Jongin’s wildest dreams and he finds himself stopping every half an hour just to poke at things or flip open a book.

By about midnight Kyungsoo disappears for a while and the various scents of something delicious start wafting their way through the loft. Jongin’s head pops up.

He closes the tome he’s reading with a dull thump and pushes himself to his feet, following his nose. It leads him to a small kitchen at the back of the lower level and to Kyungsoo who is…

Jongin pauses to lean a shoulder against the entranceway.

Kyungsoo is barefoot and humming to himself, both hands busy either stirring something in a pot nearby or flipping the wok to his side. Jongin finds himself smiling lopsidedly and only just remembers to school his expression before Kyungsoo glances back and spots him. His ears are faintly pink again at being watched but Jongin pretends it’s the heat from the stovetops. After a few moments Kyungsoo clears his throat.

“I thought you uh, might be hungry.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Jongin laughs. He spots Kyungsoo falter slightly, looking embarrassed and hurries to step into the kitchen. “Of course it’s the perfect time to eat.”

That seems to relax Kyungsoo and he turns back to the cooking. “I usually forget to eat,” he says softly. “I get caught up in my work. So I forgot to offer you any food and I only just realized the time and-”

“It’s fine.” Jongin hazards a guess and opens the only set of overhead drawers, finding bowls. _Jackpot_. “In truth I didn’t notice the hours passing either; I was too busy looking at all the stuff you have here.”

“Oh. You… like it?”

Bowls cradled in the crook of one arm, Jongin props a hip against the countertop so Kyungsoo can see him directly. “Are you kidding? You have more latent magic and arcane knowledge in here than any other place I’ve ever _seen_.”

Kyungsoo gives a faint hum of surprise. Flipping the contents of the wok one last time he settles it back onto its burner and lowers the heat. He checks the contents of the pot and flicks that off too, taking it to the sink to drain. As he does a tiny beep sounds and the rice cooker Jongin hadn’t noticed behind a small pot plant cracks its lid happily, steam escaping. Jongin tentatively looks between it and Kyungsoo.

“Did you want me to… get the rice?”

“Sure, as much as you need. Leftovers can be saved for tomorrow.” Kyungsoo empties the water from the pot and tumbles what Jongin can see are soybean sprouts into his hand. Kyungsoo methodically towels them off gently and places them with a riot of other colorful ingredients on a nearby plate. So Jongin hastily spoons out the rice into generous portions with the little spatula left next to the cooker and brings them over, settling the warm bowls onto the countertop. He peers over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, looking through the ingredients.

“Is that bibimbap?”

Kyungsoo glances up at the voice, finding his nose almost brushing Jongin’s. He leans back a fraction, fumbling slightly. “It’s not dolsot or anything fancy; I don’t have the stone pots…”

“Trust me,” Jongin can already feel his mouth watering. “This smells amazing as it is. I can’t wait to try some.”

Kyungsoo blinks, turning back to the ingredients. “When was the last time you had fresh vegetables on your side of the wall? You look about ready to marry this.”

“Now don’t get jealous,” Jongin nudges the rice bowls closer as Kyungsoo begins to arrange some carrot and cabbage, followed by the shitake mushrooms, zucchini, cucumber and finally his sprouts. “I have a real kink for good food. I eat well.”

Kyungsoo snorts, deliberately knocking Jongin’s foot out of the way with his own as he reaches across him for a bowl containing delicious-smelling marinated beef. “It’s a good thing I cook well then.”

Jongin watches as Kyungsoo spoons the minced beef into the center of the bowl and onto its neatly arranged vegetables atop the rice. Kyungsoo then stretches forward onto his toes, unhooks a small pan from the rack in front of him on the wall and gently bundles Jongin out of the way as he moves for the stove once more.

“There are eggs in the fridge. _Not_ the ones that are purple. They’re tainted and will sprout if exposed to heat.”

Jongin carefully extracts two normal chicken eggs and closes the door, leaving the purple batch to squeak quietly to themselves. Kyungsoo has a small amount of oil heating in the pan when he hands them over. “This place is just full of surprises.”

“Wait until you have to feed Bucephalus.”

Jongin swears he detects a hint of laughter in Kyungsoo’s voice. But before he can be sure the other witch takes the eggs, cracks them and lets them drop neatly into the pan. They sizzle contentedly for a while before Kyungsoo deems them done and he takes the pan over to slide one off onto the crown of each bowl. He finishes with a drizzle of sesame oil.

“We can eat in the other room.”

Jongin’s fingers itch eagerly as he watches Kyungsoo spoon one generous dollop of gochujang sauce onto the side before swooping in to scoop up both the bowls and some chopsticks. “I haven’t uncovered a dining table yet.”

Kyungsoo gives an eyeroll before leading the way out. The wooden floorboards from earlier give way to a carpeted area around one corner and Jongin spots a neatly arranged section of herb planters, boxes, books and a ladder leaning up against the arm of what has to be the couch.

Kyungsoo takes the planter boxes and sets them aside to make some room, brushing the little remains of soil off the dark fabric. Jongin quickly perches the bowls onto a stack of shelves and lifts the ladder away. “What did your last cleaner die of?”

Kyungsoo’s eyes flick up. “Malnutrition,” he deadpans.

Jongin grins widely, eyebrows bouncing. “I’m already doing better then.”

Kyungsoo turns away with an armful of books and something in Jongin tingles; he’s genuinely _fun_ to banter with. And Jongin is determined to befriend Kyungsoo. The man _cooked_ for him for goodness sake.

When enough space is cleared Jongin takes the bowls and plops down, holding one out to Kyungsoo who watches this flop with barely concealed amusement.

“Comfy?”

Jongin picks the chopsticks up. “Hungry,” he shoots back, beginning to fold the egg and the paste carefully into the rest of the meal. He feels the couch dip as Kyungsoo sinks down beside him.

The first heaped mouthful is a little like finding heaven. Enough so that Jongin can’t quite control the appreciative sound that escapes him when he chews.

Kyungsoo legitimately chuckles into his dinner.

Jongin’s head flicks up and around. “I’m sorry, it’s just really-”

But Kyungsoo’s ears _and_ his cheeks are highlighted. He glances up at Jongin and then back down at his food again. “No it’s okay, really. I just…” his chopsticks mix methodically. “That’s probably the best compliment I’ve had in years. And it’s come from someone raised a million miles away.”

Jongin smiles around his next bite, half-aware that he probably looks a little like a chipmunk. “Will happily trade more compliments for food,” he manages.

Kyungsoo nods, settling back against the couch cushions. “For a witch you’re surprisingly open and talkative.”

Pulling the chopsticks out from between his lips, Jongin frowns while chewing. He swallows. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t talked to another witch in half a decade. And the last one betrayed me.”

Jongin pauses, chopsticks still in mid-air. “Okay there are some _really_ strange things on this side of the wall, I have to admit. Today has been… not what I expected. But witches stick together, right? It’s the one constant. The one reliable…” he trails off as Kyungsoo stares at him.

“You’re so naive. It’d almost be endearing if it weren’t so reckless.”

Jongin scoffs, face heating indignantly. He busies himself with shoveling in the next few mouthfuls of food. “It’s the way I was raised,” he mumbles. “We’re always told that there’s safety in witch numbers because everything else out there is-”

“Going to hurt you?” Kyungsoo finishes for him. “Remember you’ve come a long way and I think if today has taught you anything it’s that you might want to leave your preconceptions at the wall.”

Jongin chases some rice grains around his bowl. It feels a little like he’s being gently scolded. Kyungsoo’s voice becomes quieter.

“Because I’ve found out that unless you cause a ruckus first and endanger someone _else_ , there’s a good chance that most creatures will leave you alone.” Kyungsoo pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “Except vampires. They’ll likely rip your head off.”

“And yet you befriended one?” Jongin can’t keep track of all of this. “A master of all things. Junmyeon has access past your wards. How did that happen?”

“Masters are much wiser.” Kyungsoo waves his chopsticks in a small, descriptive arc like it was nothing to have had Junmyeon just drop by. “And I’ve known him for years. Junmyeon used to run the local abattoir for his clan but his heart really wasn’t in it. Given the chance he much prefers art museums and collecting expensive clothing. Don’t ever ask him about his shoe collection. I let him read his fill in here several years ago and that’s when he decided to pick up his job at the morgue.” Kyungsoo shrugs. “Someone has to keep the baby vamps from running amok if any are a victim of a violent death and Junmyeon is a good teacher. Kind.”

Jongin makes a rude noise into his dinner and Kyungsoo pokes him with a foot.

“Manners come with the job; either you learn some respect for others or you’re out as quick as you came.”

“Sorry,” Jongin mutters, abashed. “It’s just a lot to take in in twenty four hours. Where I come from witches band together against everything else out there. The council hates us the most.”

“The council is the same here. So I learned to adapt.”

“You… trusted the monsters?”

“Some of them, yes.”

Jongin tips the bowl back to scrape the last of the deliciousness into his mouth. He finally lowers it, missing the taste already. “And that’s why you don’t hang around with other witches?”

Kyungsoo hums, standing up. “Most of them don’t like me. I’m able to do things they can’t and that makes people fearful.” He reaches down for Jongin’s bowl, hand outstretched. “Except you. The ridiculous witch from a foreign land who apparently doesn’t know any better.”

That makes Jongin laugh. Handing his bowl up to Kyungsoo seems almost like a silent agreement of… something. He stands as he does, suckling the tips of his chopsticks for one last scrap of sauce. “So does teasing me come with the job too?”

“Until you prove yourself, absolutely.”

Jongin trails after Kyungsoo back to the tiny kitchen. “Hey I thought I was just a cleaner. What’s there to prove?” He doesn’t miss the way Kyungsoo’s steps falter for a split second; the pause and then resuming of his stride. He stacks the bowls onto the side of the sink with the rest of the dishes before replying.

“That you can handle yourself with me. Because if you can then I _might_ take you with me to look into Junmyeon's case so that you’ll be able to pay off your weapon instead of having to also work elsewhere. No promises though.” Kyungsoo turns and plucks the chopsticks from where they’re dangling from Jongin’s lips, looking up at him. “Any questions?”

Jongin lets his mouth curve into a slow smile. “Does this make us partners?”

“No.” Kyungsoo tosses the chopsticks into the sink. “Now stop playing cute; I need to wash up.”

“I’m not flirting! I already told you-”

“Out.”

* * *

Jongin feels like he’s suffocating to death. His entire torso is compressed so heavily that he can’t breathe; a weight so huge he might just die from it if he can’t-

“Jongin!” Kyungsoo’s voice reaches the loft from the floor below. “It’s dawn. Up and at ‘em!”

Jongin cracks open his eyes with a wheeze. The smell of sulfur lingers in the air from his dream but Jongin is still pinned under an impossible weight.

A massive black head rests on his chest. The molten cracks in Marshmallow’s skin glow faintly with each soft snore, dimming again only to reignite. Jongin chokes down a cough and struggles to free an arm from both the covers and the hound he’s pinned under. Eventually with much wiggling and careful watching of the teeth several inches from his face he manages it. Scrabbling around on the floor Jongin finds the nearest object and awkwardly knocks it as hard as he can.

An empty mug goes clattering along the wood before rolling the last of the way, bouncing down the stairs.

Kyungsoo’s footsteps thump their way up in reverse and he quickly appears at the top of the steps. It takes him all of two seconds to understand Jongin’s predicament.

“Marshmallow. Off.”

Jongin holds what little breath he has left as the hellhound wakes up, crackling with liquid fire under the surface. Two eyes open, fix and stare at him as the weight behind all those muscles shift. Jaws that could snap a femur bone drop open and just as Jongin tenses… Marshmallow gives him a long lick and turns, leaping off the bed.

Kyungsoo chuckles. “He likes you.”

Jongin sucks a breath into a chest that can finally fill to capacity again as heavy paws drum down the steps like an excited puppy. “I think he squashed a kidney.”

“Are you _sure_ you hunt dangerous things for a living?”

Jongin gives a sarcastic laugh and flops an arm over his eyes. “Why are we awake at this hour again?”

“Breakfast.”

“We ate like four, five hours ago.”

“Not for us.” There’s a rustle and Jongin’s shirt lands on top of his arm. “For Bucephalus. It’s feeding time. C’mon.”

Sitting up, Jongin grabs for the clean shirt and stuffs an arm into the first sleeve. As he stretches it to the other arm he’s sure he can see Kyungsoo quickly dipping his eyes away from Jongin’s bare chest. By the time he’s pulled it over his head Kyungsoo is staring rather intently at the wall. Jongin smiles.

“Right. How do we feed your biggest adoptee?”

Kyungsoo’s gaze slides off the wallpaper to glance askew at him. “How do you feel about catapults?”

* * *

The wide open rooftop of the multistory complex is very windy but Jongin finds he appreciates the fresh air more than he had anticipated. There’s just… so _much_ stuff in Kyungsoo’s warehouse. The open sky and sunrise are a lovely change.

Bucephalus couldn’t possibly squeeze himself up the roof-access stairwell and out of the door behind them, Kyungsoo had explained before they’d ascended; in the mornings the big bay windows are always thrown open for the manticore to come and go.

“It’s really the only time he gets to stretch his wings unless I need to get somewhere quickly and can take him out,” Kyungsoo says sadly. “If the council gets hold of him they’ll put him down without a second thought.”

Jongin watches as heavy wingbeats sound from the western side of the high-rise. With far too much grace to be natural-born the manticore soars into view backlit against the orange-tinged clouds. Jongin can’t help the soft, awed sound that escapes him as what should be a full grown _lion_ does a lazy loop in the open air, circling back to roar hungrily in the direction of both men.

“I’ve never seen a full grown one up close before,” Jongin says as he follows after Kyungsoo. The wind catches in his long coat and makes it dance. “I’d started to think they didn’t exist outside of stories.”

Kyungsoo moves for a very large freezer chest sitting against one side of the concrete platform. “Everything you can imagine exists outside stories,” he says quietly. So quietly that Jongin almost doesn’t catch the words before the breeze snatches them away. “Here.” Kyungsoo cracks the chest and hauls out what looks like a whole haunch. “We’ll need about three or four chunks for him to be satisfied.”

Jongin takes hold of the meat a little awkwardly. “Your local butcher must love you.”

“Minseok’s a good man.” Kyungsoo drapes a cold beef rib over one shoulder and stands up, tucking another chunk under his spare arm and letting the lid drop shut. “Frost fairies really take the most care for long term storage of foods.”

“How are you planning on… thawing them?”

“Don’t need to. They’re not completely frozen but even if they were…” Kyungsoo shuffles over to a contraption set up against the skyline. “Manticores will eat absolutely anything. Even the clothes on its prey.”

Jongin’s eyebrows climb. “Comforting.”

“I’ve had Bucephalus since he was an adolescent.” Kyungsoo offloads the meaty beef ribs into what looks like a sling lying loose on the concrete. “He won’t hurt you. And plus,” Kyungsoo beckons for Jongin to come closer. “If you feed him he’ll be your best friend.”

Jongin places his haunch on the ground and steps up to where Kyungsoo has indicated. “So I just… pull back and release?”

Kyungsoo shifts to let Jongin settle his stance and pick up the sling. “You can toss it by hand but it won’t get far. This gives him more of a challenge.”

“I believe you.” Jongin carefully lifts the sling and its load, stepping back until it’s taught and straining. “Let’s try this.”

“Widen your stance,” Kyungsoo says quickly. “Or else you’ll overbalance. And be prepared for the-”

Jongin abruptly releases the sling as Bucephalus makes an expectant pass, trying to aim it as best he can. But the force behind the motion whiplashes and Jongin tumbles backwards, losing his footing out from underneath himself.

He would have landed flat on his ass if a pair of warm hands hadn’t caught his waist.

“-Recoil,” Kyungsoo finishes drily. “It’ll overbalance you every time you let go.”

Jongin swallows, righting himself. He feels those same hands slide away and in their absence the wind suddenly doesn’t feel as refreshing. It feels chilly. “Um, thanks,” he manages, clearing his throat. From behind him Kyungsoo laughs lowly.

“Try again in five minutes after he’s had his fun with that.”

Jongin glances up. Freewheeling out in the sky, Bucephalus has not only snatched his meat mid-air but is currently flipped upside down and now going through the hind leg motions to pretend to disembowel his catch like a real kitten would. Jongin never imagined such a thing could be cute.

Kyungsoo peeks around him and up at his face. “Are you smiling at one of my monsters?”

Jongin squashes his lips into a messy pout. It makes Kyungsoo break into a satisfied grin.

“Thought so.”

“Shaddup.” Jongin reaches for the haunch and settles it into the sling as Bucephalus sinks past like a purring stone, still enjoying his meal. “Let me know when to do the next one.”

“He needs a little more care than most, you know.”

Jongin looks out as the manticore finally rises again and swoops out into the distance for a long loop, ribs vanished, bones and all. “Bucephalus?”

Kyungsoo makes an affirmative humming sound. “Look closely at his tail when he next comes past.”

Oh. Jongin knows immediately what to look for. Manticores of legend are nearly entirely indestructible; terrifying foes with nigh impenetrable fur that make fighting one an impossible task. They have only one weakness…

“It happened before I found him.” Kyungsoo explains quietly as the happy manticore tumbles past like a fluffy bullet, leathery wings propelling it with ease. “When he was a baby.”

Now that he knows, Jongin focuses in on the very tip of the scorpid tail. When he squints he can see. “Someone crushed it.”

“Yeah. He can’t form stingers and couldn’t fire them even if he could manage to make any.”

A manticore’s ranged form of engagement; the stingers usually mean no one can approach to even attempt a shot for their vulnerable inner mouth. But with their tail mangled they’re basically heavily armored sitting ducks. Jongin feels his heart drop for the first time. For a monster.

“Here.” Kyungsoo’s hands are back as if he can sense it, settling onto Jongin’s hips as he quietly tugs him backwards. “Second course.”

Jongin swallows, trying to focus. Kyungsoo found the manticore and its living its best life in a loft warehouse above a ruined city’s old bones. It’s not enslaved or tortured or even hunted by witches. Jongin surprises himself with the amount of softness that inspires in him.

Kyungsoo’s grip tightens gently, warming through Jongin’s coat. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Jongin whispers. It feels a little like agreeing to something more. To learn. To set aside his own ideas about the world and try something new.

“Good.” Kyungsoo murmurs from behind his left shoulder. He lets Jongin take a couple of steps back into him to bring the sling properly taught. “You got it.”

Bucephalus circles around and soars in, pinpoint accurate. Jongin’s body feels protected against the wind with Kyungsoo’s rock solid strength behind him. He feels the magic in his own blood stir as if evoked on its very own.

Jongin lets go.

* * *

The sun is on the verge of dipping below the broken buildings on the horizon when Jongin walks into the living room area to find Kyungsoo shrugging on a leather jacket.

Placing the latest carton of books he’s gathered onto the floor, Jongin dusts off his hands and cracks his back. “Will you be back before the sun comes up or do I need to set your tiny puffball up to guard the front door?”

There’s a strangely indignant yip from the direction of the attic and Jongin suspects his bed has been commandeered again while he’s been tidying.

Kyungsoo picks up a black bandanna and loops it around his neck. “No need,” he says, lifting it to cover the lower half of his face. “You’re coming with.”

Jongin knows the anticipation shows on his face. “Really?”

“I promised Junmyeon I’d get him his information. The place I need is only operational after dark.”

Jongin brushes along his belt with his fingertips, counting his vials with almost unconscious habit. “Where are you going?”

Kyungsoo retrieves a set of fingerless black gloves that do… something… to Jongin’s insides as he slips them into his pocket. “It’s a club. I know a few of the staff but there’s one I need to talk to. He always has his ear to the ground in this area of town.”

“And what do you need me to do?” Jongin pictures the clubs he’s known; mostly filthy underground places full of quick spells and quicker knives.

Kyungsoo’s eyes flick up. Jongin can’t see the amusement but he can hear it in Kyungsoo’s voice. “Be my lookout.”

“Wait—what?”

“I can spell it out for you if you like.”

“So I’m sitting outside?” Jongin follows as Kyungsoo begins to move for his workbench. “Like a rookie?”

“Did I not already establish the other day that I can take care of myself?”

“Well yes—in petty spectacular fashion, but…” Jongin tries to find the right words as Kyungsoo rounds his workbench and reaches for the mortar bowl he’d been using yesterday when Jongin first arrived. He tugs the bowl towards himself and peels back the cling film he’d settled over the top while Jongin is trying to figure out why he’s basically been relegated to babysitter.

“You’re sure just hanging around like a creep outside a club will pay off my debt?” he asks a little morosely.

Kyungsoo glances up and then back at his bowl’s contents. “Anything more puts you at risk.”

Jongin’s mouth -already open to retort- closes slowly. “I can handle risk,” he says quietly. He almost feels like scuffing his foot; it’s absurd.

“I know you can. You wouldn’t have made it all the way to me if you weren’t a capable witch.” Kyungsoo gives a small, investigative shake to the bowl’s contents and settles it back onto the counter, abruptly warming Jongin from head to toe at the first acknowledgement he’s heard fall from Kyungsoo’s mouth.

Kyungsoo suddenly holds out a hand. 

“A drop of fire?”

Jongin knows a witch of Kyungsoo’s standing could create an invocation for flame in his sleep. So it makes him feel a little like a schoolboy with his first crush knowing that a gifted hyung is making an effort to include him. It’s actually kind of sweet.

Jongin quickly reaches for his belt. He’d stored at least several motes of fire magic for emergency situations before he set out and has only had to use one so far when crossing the wall. It won’t be an imposition to use one for this…

But as he’s reaching to unclasp a vial Kyungsoo speaks up.

“No. From scratch.”

Jongin looks up sharply. “You want me to invoke?”

Kyungsoo’s face is undecipherable from behind his black mask. “Remember we’re fully warded here; you’ll be safe.”

“H-how much time do you have?” Jongin quickly runs through the ritual in his mind. “I thought we were headed out?”

“You’ve never dual-casted before.” It’s a statement but Kyungsoo makes it sound almost like a curious question. Jongin blinks.

“You know that’s forbidden practice as much as I do.”

Kyungsoo quickly turns away, opening a drawer set deeply into the shelves behind him. “In that case we can use the stored mote you have. You’re right; I just thought we’d speed things up and-”

“I’ll try it. Because it’s you.”

Kyungsoo glances back over his shoulder. Magitechnician of stories. If anyone alive would know what he’s doing…

Jongin offers him a bright smile. “And you just want to taste my own power. Admit it.”

The cloth over Kyungsoo’s cheek puffs up. “Don’t flatter yourself, rookie. Dual-casting is just quicker.”

Jongin sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to tamper his smile, running both hands through his hair. “You’re in for a treat.” He dramatically cracks his neck just to hear Kyungsoo’s quiet, hidden laugh.

“Let’s get this done.” Kyungsoo folds back his long sleeves (for a witch he certainly prefers looking soft and comfy, Jongin has noticed) and lets Jongin do the same with his long coat’s arms. Then he plucks a piece of waxy chalk from the drawer and leans back over a spare open part of the bench, sketching quickly with short, sure strokes.

The small half-moon sigil shape glows faintly when the final line is connected and Jongin is not surprised at all to feel the summoned power crackle the air in the room like a preemptive lightning strike on a summer’s night. What he _is_ surprised to see however… is the design shape unique to Kyungsoo’s magic. It’s… oh. It’s familiar.

Wordlessly Jongin takes the chalk when it’s handed to him and sketches his personal symbol on the other half of the moon design, forming a full circle with Kyungsoo’s own. He wasn’t imagining things; both the runes in the two halves are eerily similar when completed, interlock almost identically and Jongin looks at them for a long moment, stunned.

Kyungsoo gives a faint hum of surprise. It breaks Jongin out of his revere and he swallows, speaking quietly.

“Must be fate.”

Kyungsoo keeps staring at the two halves for a moment longer. “I never expected that,” he murmurs almost to himself. There’s a faint, thoughtful furrow to his brows and Jongin would give his left leg to know what Kyungsoo is thinking right this moment. But before he can vocalize anything the other witch lays his bare forearm out across the design on his side, palm up. He looks up to Jongin. “When were you born?”

“January. Fourteenth.” Jongin leans down a little and lays his own arm alongside Kyungsoo’s, hand gripping just below the other man’s elbow. Kyungsoo’s fingers come over to close around Jongin’s forearm as well; his skin is just as warm as it was outside that morning and Jongin gives himself a mental slap.

_Concentrate. He’s talented as fuck so don’t screw this up._

The scribbled invocation pulses under Jongin’s half of the moon now that he’s in contact with it; recognizing it’s owner. He forces himself to make his heartbeat slow, to become something more. For his blood to become… potent.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. “Garnet and birch,” he breathes out and his half of the runic invocation begins to pulse below them on the desk as they connect. “I thought I was going crazy when you first passed through my wards. But your magic really does smell like mine.”

Jongin startles. “You’re born in January too?”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo’s eyes have drifted shut. “The twelfth,” he whispers and below Jongin’s grip he can feel goosebumps flush Kyungsoo’s whole arm. He quickly forces himself to slam his own eyelids down and not think, not circle on that one thought, that knowledge, that…

That fate. Witches draw their flavor of blood magic from their lunar month of birth. Whispers down the years since the old world broke talk about such rarities as different witches born close together; the possibilities they pose if their lunar cycles overlap.

Kyungsoo centers himself and Jongin hurries to follow. He can feel his heartbeat in heavy, thick pulses. Dual-casting has been forbidden by the council since Jongin was a child; the generation belonging to his parents had been banned from harnessing their bloodborn power in any way that could make them more potent. Magic has always been time-consuming and dangerous to invoke, but combining any two witches’ power made things both volatile and very, very fast.

“Just a mote, huh?” Jongin asks as he feels the magic in his blood begin to warm. He still envisions sparkles dancing along his veins even as he knows that’s childish. “Such a tough call.”

Kyungsoo huffs a laugh. “Shut up and follow my lead.”

Jongin squares his shoulders and feels Kyungsoo’s skin heat to the touch from within. That encourages Jongin even more and he focuses on drawing on his own magic out, feeling it gradually empty from every inch of his body to pool into his arm, his hand, his fingertips… racing towards the focal point their runes have created. At Kyungsoo’s soft exhale it almost feels like a connection has clicked within their magic and that’s… dangerously fun. Jongin has never known this. It's like a whole new level of different. 

He can finally feel the fatigue start to set into his muscles just as Kyungsoo’s form starts to tremble as well, their interlocked arms beginning to bear the brunt of summoned magic. Kyungsoo finally begins the invocation in earnest when he feels the build up reach a critical mass, trapping the magic like a tourniquet into their moon of runes; his rough, hushed voice sends something more than a shiver through Jongin - he’s dying to open his eyes to _see_ Kyungsoo casting but he holds it, holds onto Kyungsoo like a lifeline as their grips tighten and begin to slide down each other’s forearms, drawing the trapped power with them like squeezing out water.

The room fills with the clean, sweet scent of birch.

Jongin picks up when Kyungsoo runs out of breath, keeping the invocation going until his instincts scream at him that his body physically can’t take any more and will break down storing this much force unless-

Kyungsoo yanks his hand -which has by now slid almost to Jongin’s wrist- that last couple of inches and before the volatile fire can burst free he threads their fingers together, slamming them palm to palm.

Jongin’s eyes snap open as he’s forced back a half-step, the echo of released power rolling over them both like an invisible tsunami. Books flitter open, scrolls tumble from their neatly arranged piles and there’s a very displeased snarl from the rafters. Somewhere in the front a plant crashes to the ground, shattering its pot.

Jongin feels like every hair in his body is on end, electrified. He gapes at Kyungsoo whose bandanna has tumbled down to pool around his neck. Their eyes lock across their clasped hands and Kyungsoo looks just as exhilaratingly caught up as Jongin feels; eyes shining and mouth open in a soft pant. They remain staring at each other, shoulders heaving as the final remnants of their magic twine together and fade out, leaving only the electric crackle in the air. Of magic and... something more. Something almost heady. Then finally Jongin blinks and the other man’s eyes slide to their hands as he very, very carefully turns them palm up, cracking them apart until only their fingers are joined. Kyungsoo smiles.

Inside their hands sits a single, tiny mote of flame. It dances in its own invisible wind as if happy to be there.

Kyungsoo reaches for the bowl nearby and tips their hands so the little flame plops out. The moment it hits the specially-worded paper, ingredients and crystallized magic Kyungsoo has been letting marinate in there it causes a tower of flame shoots several feet into the air before receding into an almost instantaneous puff of smoke. Jongin coughs faintly.

“Wow.”

Kyungsoo peers into the bowl, at the contents that to Jongin now look like… superheated ash. Then while Jongin is still trying to puzzle it out, Kyungsoo releases their clasped hands (Jongin does not feel a bit empty at that, he lies to himself), tips the bowl’s tiny contents out into his hand, presses his other palm over it and _squeezes_.

A nudge at the back of Jongin’s ankle reveals Cerberus when he glances down; fur looking like he’s just been blown backwards through a hurricane. With a smile Jongin picks him up and pats all three of the puppy’s heads in succession, smoothing all the white floof back into its correct place. One mouth latches onto his thumb, gnawing thoughtfully with baby teeth.

Jongin glances up. Small beads of sweat have formed on Kyungsoo’s hairline and as Jongin watches they trickle down while Kyungsoo keeps applying immense pressure to whatever is in his hands. Finally the other witch flicks his head to clear his hair from his eyes and lets his grip release with a heavy puff of breath. Jongin has seen Kyungsoo shatter entire _buildings_ with his strength so he has no idea what to expect but what Kyungsoo finally holds out, cheeks pink with exertion, was _not_ on Jongin’s list…

“Is that a _diamond_?”

Kyungsoo mops at one temple with the hem of his long sleeve. “A rough one, but yeah. For you.”

“Me?”

Kyungsoo wiggles his hand so Jongin juggles Cerberus and reaches out, plucking the small, off-white item from Kyungsoo’s palm. It’s still radiating a faint heat; Jongin can’t believe his eyes. “Did you—did you just _force_ this from carbon?”

Kyungsoo nods, letting out a breath. “It’s a miniature version of my own wards. We’ll need you hidden from the council when we’re outside in the city. This needs to be refreshed every full moon but it should be strong enough to cloak your magic temporarily from their soulhounds. I have one too. Keep it on you at all times.”

“But…” Jongin turns the uneven, roughly-hewn item over in his fingers. “You were making this when I arrived. How did you know-”

“Rhododendron for protection, a scroll of displacement to ward you and imbued with enough crystallized magic to allow them to bind,” Kyungsoo rattles off, dodging Jongin’s question. So Jongin takes a chance and deliberately rounds the bench, putting himself in Kyungsoo’s path.

“Soo.”

That trips Kyungsoo up well enough that he pauses, blinking up at Jongin. “What?”

“Ignoring the fact that your magic basically makes you a living tectonic plate,” Jongin lets Cerberus gently sniff the newly formed gemstone. “When I walked in here you were already in the process of starting this. Unless you give out diamonds to people every day, how did you know I’d be coming and need it?”

Kyungsoo closes his mouth slowly. For only the second time ever he looks away from Jongin, dropping his gaze. If Jongin didn’t know any better he would say the he was suddenly shy. One hand goes to the back of his neck and Kyungsoo rubs awkwardly. “A lucky guess,” is all he says before quickly diverting his attention to Jongin’s fluffy armful. He boops one of Cerberus’ noses. “We should leave the dogs some food before we go.”

With narrowed eyes Jongin meanders after Kyungsoo who ducks around the other side of the bench and makes for the kitchen. “So I take it I can’t arm wrestle the truth out of you?”

“I don’t need you in the hospital right now, so no.”

“Kyungsoo…”

“I’m a good guesser, that’s all. Now, the one thing you absolutely must remember is to always feed Cerberus in a well-lit room. His shadow must _never_ be allowed to eat.”

“His _what?_ ”

* * *

The faint drizzle of rain lends everything in the street a hazy, muffled appearance like something out of a memory. Kyungsoo leads Jongin down the winding wreckage of what was once probably a busy club district – in some places new neon lights have replaced the ones that once stood to advertise nightclubs and bars. But new music hasn’t been made in a generation as humanity has spent most of its time adjusting to the new reality so these areas of cities faded faster than most.

All that remained (and sometimes even flourished) were the darker sides of entertainment and as Kyungsoo finally draws to a stop in front of a heavy studded door and knocks on it, Jongin isn’t particularly surprised to see the flickering, bent sign taped above.

 _Succulents_.

It’s a strange name, Jongin thinks. Kind of reminds him of a plant but he’s been up since sunrise so he pushes it to the back of his mind, trusting that Kyungsoo’s contact doesn’t just run a peculiar underground florist.

Kyungsoo knocks on the door and a plate scrapes back at eye level. A rough voice speaks.

“Consent?”

Kyungsoo nods. “Yes, I consent.”

Jongin glances between the door and Kyungsoo. “What the heck is that for?”

“So everything is above board,” Kyungsoo replies simply, stepping back as the door makes a series of deep clicking sounds and swings open with a hydraulic hiss of compressed air. Kyungsoo looks up at Jongin. “I won’t be too long. Wonho always makes time for me so just keep watch, okay?”

Jongin frowns. “Are you really sure? I can come in; I’m a big boy.”

Kyungsoo’s lips curl up. “Junmyeon wanted you to tag along with me but I need you safe. Just keep a lookout. I’ll be back within the hour.”

With a sigh Jongin steps aside. “I’ll be here.”

Kyungsoo nods and walks inside, past the now-impatient looking doorman. He takes a clipboard from him and scribbles his name, signing alongside. And then Jongin can’t see any more because the door swings shut and re-locks.

 _Just great._ The evening air is brittle and Jongin hikes up his coat’s collar against the drizzle. If he’s going to be creepily loitering outside a club he might as well look the part. Kicking a stone into the nearby running drain is a childish move but it makes him feel better momentarily.

Settling back against the damp brickwork Jongin crosses his arms. And waits.

And waits.

Almost an hour ticks by before the door makes it’s hissing sound again. Jongin who has been tossing his newly formed diamond up and down in one hand pauses expectantly, about to utter a ‘finally’ when he realizes it’s not Kyungsoo who is leaving.

A couple stumble out, barely able to stand without grabbing hold of each other for support. The woman is giggling, her partner nosing into her hair while his hands roam everywhere he can reach. To Jongin’s mortification they plaster themselves against the bricks with a thump. The woman gives a breathless little moan. “God, best high ever.”

“Still so fucked up,” the man agrees and Jongin catches a glimpse of elven ears as he shifts to grab her by the ass. He tries not to look as they start to make out.

“When he nailed you while I sucked you off…” the woman slurs into his mouth. “So hot.”

Jongin can’t figure it out and their state is starting to make him nervous. They’re both barely coherent, blatantly horny as hell and as far as Jongin knows only vampires roll a person so heavily in a sexual way, but they don’t lurk behind consent forms and random strangers; the eldest only feed from their loyal human servants and the newly turned are often so alluring that their victims seek _them_ out. 

As he’s pondering the woman finally realizes they’re not alone. She pulls away from her partner with a yelp.

“What are you doing lurking there like a pervert? You _freak_.”

“Wait— no,” Jongin holds out his hands placatingly. “I’m just waiting for my-“

But the woman sneers at him. “Creepy little sniffer waiting at the door for some kind of secondhand hit. Get lost!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jongin looks to the elven companion the woman has but he just laughs and guides her stumbling form with him around Jongin and the two of them stagger away. Within seconds it’s like they’ve forgotten him because they start feeling each other up again

Jongin is lost. And very, very unsettled. He looks back to the club door. The guarded entrance, the airtight seal, the strange forms, the woman’s comment about scents… Jongin’s mind races.

He crosses back to the door and thumps on it with the heel of one hand.

The plate scrapes back. “Consent?”

“I just need to know if my friend is okay,” Jongin rushes to say. “The guy I came here with. It’s been an hour and-”

The plate slams closed. Jongin feels a thread of anger simmering inside the worry now. He doesn’t want to freak out because Kyungsoo is a grown man and can take care of himself, but what if something unexpected has…

Jongin heaves in a breath and bangs on the door again. The force surprises himself. And once again the plate opens and it’s guardian snarls.

“I’m calling the council in two minutes if you’re not-”

“I consent,” Jongin says firmly.

There’s a pause and then after several agonizing moments the plate finally closes and the internal bolts heave back. Air rushes out to flutter Jongin’s hair and collar. He steps forward.

The doorman thrusts a clipboard at Jongin with one meaty fist. So Jongin snatches up the pen and scans the form; a date, time and empty list to be filled for identification purposes. Jongin writes his name below Kyungsoo’s on the list and hastily adds his signature. There’s fine print at the bottom and Jongin squints at it.

_The above signees henceforth offer written consent -having verbally consented prior to entering the venue- to all activities and encounters that happen therein for the time period of no more than three hours. Should at any stage consent be revoked -either verbally or any form of signal established prior and noted down- the aforementioned consent is revoked and all parties engaged will cease activities immediately. Failure to adhere to these guidelines will result in strict penalties including, but not limited to, detainment by law enforcement officials. Succulents establishment is a fully licensed venue and does not accept any liability for any activities participated in beyond the scope of the premises. By signing all participants hereby agree to the above stated clauses._

Jongin glances up. The doorman holds out a hand and Jongin returns the clipboard; it’s scanned quickly before the guard looks back to Jongin.

“Haven’t seen you here before so there’s a few rules before you start.”

Jongin swallows, nodding. “Sure. Shoot.”

The guard moves for an inner, secondary door. “The time limit will be signaled to you and no matter what you are doing you _will_ leave at that point. You are not to approach any of the performers at any time; they will approach you. If you need, signal for a staff member; rooms are available and oxygen will be supplied. And at no point are you to report any of the participants you see in here to the council. Are we clear?”

Not sure what to do with his hands Jongin slips them into his pockets, trying to affect nonchalance. “Sure. I uh, won’t be long. I just want my friend.”

The big man pushes on the handle of the secondary door which parts with a compressed hiss as well. “Don’t give a shit about your kinks,” he rumbles. “Just get in and be done with it.”

Jongin doesn’t bother arguing or trying to explain otherwise. A strange scent starts to fill his nose as he ducks inside, hearing the door suction closed quickly behind him.

Inside the club the atmosphere is like a fever dream. Faint whispers of smoke dance through strobe lighting that swings lazily across the interior. Everything from platforms to couches and even full sized beds litter the numerous alcoves and main floor. Figures half-dressed decadently twirl amongst the haze; around poles and amongst the upraised stage areas. Patrons in far plainer street clothes or very little at all lounge about or lie on the open surfaces, each accompanied by another glittering, ethereal figure. Sometimes more than two fill a certain space; trios and foursomes more than common.

Jongin blinks, feeling his feet becoming slower, his limbs lax with a heady kind of feeling. It’s a little like the first stages of being drunk, only… quicker to kick in. He totters forward squinting into the multicolored corners and knots of naked, twined people for the familiar figure of Kyungsoo. He shakes his head to try to clear it but the same scent infiltrates his lungs and then via there his bloodstream.

All too late Jongin’s witch-sense thinks it recognizes what he’s signed himself up for, but by then the sweat-soaked sounds of pleasure have spun themselves around his mind and taken hold. The groups of people are all busy fucking in various positions and numbers, blissfully uncaring of their surroundings and it’s getting harder and harder to keep his mind on task the further in Jongin wanders. His pulse speeds up, breath coming faster. His pants tighten.

A soft voice sounds behind him when Jongin starts peering into the small nooks littered around the edges of the large room.

“Oh, you’re handsome.”

Jongin spins, revealing a slender, ridiculously pretty man. A silver chain drapes across his face, highlighting his petite nose and delicate features. He blinks gentle eyes up at Jongin, silver hair catching the light as he tilts his head. Dressed from head to toe in sheer, shimmering clothing that might as well not be even there, the man holds out a hand.

“You look tense. I bet you’d love to relax, hmm?”

Jongin is struck by how fast his body reacts -dick jumping, abs tensing- and it’s all he can do to shake his head. The movement feels like he’s swimming through water. “No. Um, I’m—I need to find someone.”

The pixie-like figure smiles. “You’re in the right place to find someone. We’re all here for what you need.”

 _But he’s not a pixie_ , a far corner Jongin’s mind supplies. And just as he’s wavering with that corner shutting down too a second man appears, looping a long arm around the first and drawing him back to rest against his chest. They look amazing together. His eyes are peculiarly multicolored, hair a riot of pink tumbles. “What did you find here, Baek?”

The shorter creature leans back against the jacket open across a bare chest. His own see-through shirt catches on his peaked nipples as he does and Baek bites his lip.

“A new one. What do you think Yeollie? Do you think he likes us enough to want to play?”

The striking newcomer smiles; a wide, surprisingly happy expression given how deep his voice is. “I certainly hope so. I really like what I see. And he’s come here just for us.”

Jongin closes his eyes, trying to come concentrate but all _that_ does is bring the sounds of very enthusiastic sex to the forefront and he snaps them open again, trying to look away from the enticing pair even as his body screams at him that yes, getting off would suddenly be the best idea ever and these two here are so incredibly willing and have offered to let him lose himself in-

Jongin freezes.

Behind the two in the distance is Kyungsoo, leaning up against one of the glittering walls, cornered there by a very, very slick and well built boy; the ripped black jeans the stranger has slide so low on his hips that the vee of his hipbones are visible, tendons straining under a garter belt just peeking out the top and running all the way back down underneath. And above that he is _all_ muscle. The veins in one bicep flex as he props himself against the wall and leans in, almost hiding Kyungsoo from view to nose against the side of his face, the blue tips of his two-toned white hair brushing Kyungsoo’s cheek. He’s smiling as he whispers something.

Jongin is struck by such a fierce wave of emotion that for a full second the chemicals that have invaded his body are flushed by his own endorphins and he can take several steps, pushing past the two creatures at his side and towards Kyungsoo because fuck, is he…

Kyungsoo chooses that moment to tip his head to the side and his glance happens to fall Jongin’s way. In the following split second two things happen.

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen; he pushes his companion away and strides over with clear steps just as the taller creature reaches out and brushes Jongin’s wrist from behind and the arousal hits back so hard that Jongin staggers, trips to his knees and his vision swims. _He’s not going to succumb. He’s **not** …_

Before he can take another breath Jongin passes out.

* * *

His head is pounding.

Jongin comes to with the feeling of something clamped over his nose and mouth. When he flails at it a firm hand quickly takes hold of his own and it’s twin presses the object back into place.

“Breathe,” Kyungsoo’s voice says gently. “Slow, deep breaths. It’s just an oxygen mask. You’re okay.”

Jongin peels his eyes open, feeling like every hungover he’s ever had has come back to haunt him all at once. He blinks a few times and the surroundings swim into focus.

Kyungsoo sits on the edge of the bed Jongin is sprawled across, hand still keeping the mask against his face. Around them is a small private room, door closed; Jongin vaguely registers the sounds of ongoing couplings outside and guesses he’s still in the club. With wobbly arms he pushes up against the pillows and takes hold of the mask himself.

Kyungsoo obligingly leans back a little bit. “You may be a big bad witch at home but here you’re just running around like a clumsy bear cub.”

Jongin frowns above the mask. “I was worried.”

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows go up. “About me?”

“No,” Jongin mumbles. “The other magitechnician I know.”

Kyungsoo flicks his thigh. “So you just charged in blind and fought the pheromones so hard you blacked out.”

“So that’s why feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo gives Jongin a soft look. “Incubi will naturally do that to you if you resist. It’s why explicit, willing consent is so important.”

Jongin sighs. “By the time I guessed what they might be it was too late. And then I saw you and-” he trails off, closing his eyes and leaning back against the headrest. His head is pounding. “Never mind.”

Kyungsoo makes a faint hum and Jongin doesn’t like how understanding it sounds; like… Kyungsoo had read between the lines and understood what Jongin nearly let slip. He’s actually debating taking off the mask and letting himself pass out again rather than feeling this awkward and shy at knowing Kyungsoo has quite possibly figured out that Jongin was abruptly jealous. But he’s saved by a knock on the door.

Kyungsoo twists at the waist. “Come in.”

The door slides open and Jongin cracks an eye to find both the creatures from earlier slipping inside. The shorter one looks sheepish and the other very concerned. They both linger on the edge of the room until Kyungsoo waves them over. Neither of them are emitting pheromones right now; carefully and politely keeping themselves in check.

“Jongin, this is Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Lead performers at Succulents.”

Jongin nods at both the incubi from behind his mask and as soon as he does Chanyeol wrings his hands, pretty rings clinking faintly.

“We’re so sorry! We didn’t know you weren’t interested in playing. Once Kyungsoo told us we took you in here.”

At his side Baekhyun is looking incredibly regretful. “We’re all strict about feeding only on willing participants here. Again, we’re super sorry.”

Jongin shakes his head. “It’s okay, it’s my fault; I shouldn’t have signed myself up for something without being more informed about it. I wasn’t thinking.”

Kyungsoo looks up at the pair who are still hovering. “Your clients will be missing you,” he says softly. They both nod but before they can take a step away Jongin puts his limited knowledge of the race to use and stretches out his spare hand. He brushes Baekhyun’s nearby wrist; tactile contact means the most to both succubi and incubi - so Jongin pats both him and Chanyeol who also immediately reaches for a little reassurance like a puppy.

“I’m not angry,” Jongin says kindly. “Forgiven.”

Baekhyun brightens immediately and nods, chain sparkling. He and Chanyeol both give Kyungsoo a squeeze on the shoulder and slip out, one after the other. And that… makes Jongin realize he should be embarrassed all over again.

“I should apologize to you too,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your time with your…” he waves a hand towards the door, trying to find the right word. “Companion.”

Kyungsoo outright snorts. “My what?”

“The big incubi. Tall, muscles for days. Blue and white hair. The one you were cozy with in the corner.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t blush like Jongin half expects him to. In fact he looks… almost amused. “You mean Wonho?”

Jongin makes a faint huffing sound. God he _sucks_ at hiding anything right now. He blames the residual pheromones still swimming laps in his bloodstream.

Kyungsoo on the other hand sounds like Jongin has just made the world’s best joke. “Jongin,”

Jongin averts his eyes, feeling a flush crawl up the back of his neck. It puts his eyes in his lap and -oh for _fucks_ sake- he’s still hard.

“Look at me.”

Jongin reluctantly peeks up from under his bangs. Kyungsoo looks… open.

“Haven’t you noticed? Or are you the world’s least observant witch tonight?”

Jongin doesn’t mean for his lips to pout while he speaks, but they do. “What?”

Kyungsoo takes a deep, steadying breath. “Their pheromones don’t affect me like everyone else. Well…” he waves a hand quickly down at his belt and Jongin looks where he’s indicating, _instantly_ clearing his throat and respectfully looking back up at Kyungsoo’s face the moment he realizes what he’s being shown.

Kyungsoo is also hard. Staining the fabric of his soft, worn jeans. Jongin squirms at that knowledge, feeling himself twitch in response to such a sight. _Fuck these pheromones_.

Kyungsoo continues. “My body has the same libido and reacts just like everyone else. That’s arousal. But the succubi can’t roll me because I’m not sexually interested. That’s attraction.”

Jongin takes a deep breath of the cool oxygen. It helps him think clearer. “Oh. So you’re, um…” he phrases his words carefully. “Not interested one anyone.”

Kyungsoo actually chuckles. “Not sexually, no. But let me put it like this,” he picks up Jongin’s spare hand and hovers it respectfully just above Jongin’s very enthusiastic dick, not touching. So what he’s taking about is clear without being lewd. “To me this feels good, but _this_ ,” Kyungsoo moves their hands up and lays Jongin’s palm over his own heart. “Is what I’m attracted to the most. Does that help?”

Jongin’s fingers tingle under Kyungsoo’s hold. _Oh_. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Okay, yeah.”

Kyungsoo smiles, letting their hands fall apart. “I kind of needed to tell you that before I call in Wonho.”

Jongin rolls his eyes. “You act like I’m going to swing at the guy.”

The bed dips and releases as Kyungsoo stands up. “If lie detectors still existed you’d fail one right now.”

“Right, I’d like to pass out again please.”

Kyungsoo seems to find this endlessly amusing. “He’s my contact. In fact he’s one of Shownu’s happy little pack of misfits. And incubi hear more pillow talk than most; if anyone has heard of a new baby vamp up for the highest bidder it’ll be him.”

“Does he have to push you up against the wall again to finish telling you his piece?”

“He likes to blend in.” Kyungsoo walks for the door, opens it and makes a beckoning motion beyond it “And we’d have attracted too many eyes if we’d sat down for a casual chat in the middle of an orgy.”

A now-familiar person follows Kyungsoo back into the room. Even the lesser lights in here catch on the dips of his chest and abs. However the moment Wonho spots Jongin his demeanor changes from suave to concerned and Jongin’s tenseness vanishes as he finds himself with a very big, very doting bedside companion as Wonho checks him over like a mother hen.

Kyungsoo looks incredibly pleased with himself.

Between Wonho and the other two incubi that might just be one more preconception out the window, Jongin grudgingly admits to himself. He would poke his tongue out at Kyungsoo but the mask prevents it.

After his inspection Wonho seems very content that Jongin is uninjured. He even pets his hair which sends Kyungsoo into entertained fits. Then he patiently settles down and in a kind voice that seems so out of place with his body, finishes telling them both the story he had begun before Jongin barged in.

The whole time he does Kyungsoo is close enough on the bed that his fingers brush the side of the other witch’s so Jongin can’t truly bring himself to stay as embarrassed as he’d first been.

* * *

Instead of leading them both back to the warehouse workshop afterwards, Kyungsoo takes Jongin in a completely different direction when they leave the club district. It confuses him but Jongin doesn’t question it. Whatever Kyungsoo has in mind it’ll certainly not be dull. So he follows.

They eventually emerge from the crowded streets and with a quick left turn down a small lane surrounded by broken shells of cars the open night sky finally greets them and Jongin takes a deep breath, feeling himself relax.

“You don’t like being cooped up,” Kyungsoo days quietly.

“I prefer not to be,” Jongin admits. “I’m used to keeping on the move to be honest. One hunt after the other. Collect my reward and go.”

Kyungsoo detours down a small flight of steps underneath an overpass and towards a row of hedges long overgrown at their base. “I understand. I won’t keep you long.” There’s a small pause. “Once this matter is settled I’ll make your weapon and you can be on your way.”

Jongin nearly misses a step. “I uh—you don’t have to. I mean I came all this way and it’d be a shame not to um, you know. Learn. And stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“Like your cooking?”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “I think I’m already full on mouths to feed at my place.”

“Oh.” Jongin looks down, both to watch his step and not to let his expression show. “Okay. I get it.”

Kyungsoo peeks back around the hedge just as Jongin joins him at the bottom. “It’s kind of why I wanted to bring you here though. Come on.”

Jongin trails along as the last broken buildings recede and a long, serpentine shape comes into view. He catches his breath because he’d read about this place in books but never wondered if he’d ever actually see it.

One of the original fissures of magic that erupted along the nearest tectonic plate nearest caused the Han river to split, break it’s banks and eventually dry out over the following generations, but some of the art sculptures installed in the 20th century had survived the carnage. Jongin looks up at one of them now.

Kyungsoo stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Apparently they changed these quite frequently but the final set still standing were only partially damaged. And since you’ve seen mine I kind of wanted to know where it is that you call home.”

Jongin steps closer to the huge iron sculpture that once resembled a full, intact globe of the planet. Countries he can’t name are raised in iron along its surface and Jongin circles the damaged and graffitied circumference until the peninsula comes into view.

Standing on his tiptoes Jongin raises a hand and points to the northernmost half of the long island. So long ago that the paint is almost invisible now, someone had scrawled a long red line across the middle of the continent. Jongin knows that isn’t where the fault erupted so he’s not sure what it could mean, but it’s roughly in the same area as the wall so his best guess is that. “My town is on the west.” Jongin makes an appropriate guess and taps the tips of his fingers as best he can. “I’ve patrolled further than the old capital on my hunts though. It’s a ghost city now. Legend says a dragon ate the last ruler.”

Kyungsoo can’t reach high enough but he makes an effort to point to an area below the wall, still towards the west coast. It’s covered in part of a crude spray-painted tag of a gryphon. “You’re here now. You’ve made it a long way.”

“Furthest anyone I know has travelled in eons. I don’t think anyone even left my town much before the eruption but whatever the reason, my great-grandparents never talked much about it.”

Kyungsoo nods. He glances out towards the cracked river bed and it’s empty walkways. “I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s a big place and thankfully not completely abandoned yet. The council still regulates everything.”

Jongin sways slightly until he can bump Kyungsoo’s shoulder with his own. “Not everything,” he says with a faint smile. “So did my power taste like you thought it would when we dual-casted?”

“It smelled…” Kyungsoo pauses thoughtfully as the breeze skitters empty leaves around their feet. “Familiar.”

“You said that before. Is that a good thing? Our sigils were compatible.”

“More than that,” Kyungsoo murmurs. “They were almost identical. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Jongin reaches into his pocket and closes his hand around the rough-hewn diamond resting there. He rolls it between his fingers for a moment before acknowledging, “It’s rare for that to happen.”

Kyungsoo tosses a bemused look over his shoulder at Jongin and gives a small hum of acknowledgment; it sounds a lot like he’s admitting that’s the understatement of the century.

Jongin steps up beside him to look out at the darkened riverbed. “Careful,” he says. “You’ve shown me a nice side so much these past couple of days I’m beginning to think you might be being friendly.”

Kyungsoo’s faintly curved lips immediately purse, looking silly. “I must have forgotten myself.”

Jongin crosses his arms and smiles, tipping his head back until he can see the stars. “I’ve thought about what I could use as my weapon,” he says finally.

Kyungsoo tilts his head as the chilling scream of soul-powered motorcycles sound somewhere on the opposite bank. “What would suit you best?”

“A pistol. Light to carry, good for medium range and would leave my sword hand free for anything close up.”

Kyungsoo’s tongue peeks out thoughtfully, only to disappear again after a swipe along his bottom lip. “The only downside on something like that is the reload time. But I can work around it with the magic-infused ammunition; perhaps place a void in either the clip or the chambers themselves…”

Jongin listens as Kyungsoo mutters schematics to himself. It’s soothing in a strange background way and Jongin lets himself take in the view. A few tall, broken lampposts litter the foreshore and with a little imagination he can almost picture the walkway as it would have been hundreds of years ago; people -families, pets, lovers- wandering along the paths and enjoying the water as it lapped. A bridge still exists to the lower half of the river and just seeing it makes Jongin feel strangely at peace. Intact remnants of the before-time aren’t common in his neck of the woods so it’s always nice to see reminders of what once was.

Inspiration strikes as Jongin spots a lone streetlight looming over the hedge that hides their walkway down. The hand he slips back into his pocket, finds the dampening stone and he figures with a sly little squeeze in his chest that now is as good a time as any to see how well it works.

Sliding his hand back into his belt, Jongin feels along the row of glass until he feels the telltale shape of his cantrip vials. Tugging the right one from its loop he can hear the council riders still patrolling in the distance but somehow that makes it all a tiny bit… fun.

Crushing the vial in his hand instantly pings Kyungsoo’s magic sense but it’s too late as he spins around because Jongin has already lobbed his handful of luminous magic towards the lamp above them.

The ancient streetlight blazes to life for the first time in generations.

Kyungsoo’s face is illuminated in the most stunning angles of gold as he gapes up at the display for a moment before he whirls on Jongin.

“What the hell?”

Jongin shrugs, drawing the diamond out and flourishing it. “Had to test it out, right?”

Kyungsoo looks at Jongin like he’s the most absurdly daft person he’s ever come across. And perhaps it’s true. But as they’re both bathed in something older than themselves Jongin can see the magitechnician curiosity in Kyungsoo wavering against his witch’s caution and eventually winning out. Kyungsoo shields his eyes and squints up at the lamp.

“You know it could be reconfigured to distribute magic-induced heat as well for the winter months. Perhaps just by using the framework of the lamp area and discarding the lower portion so as to make it easier to carry.”

Jongin leans down so his mouth is beside Kyungsoo’s upturned ear. “Congratulations, you just reinvented lanterns.”

Kyungsoo gives an exasperated huff. But at the same time his form does a little hunching motion - and to Jongin’s utter delight he realizes he’s… Jongin spins Kyungsoo around by the shoulders.

He’s silently laughing, shoulders scrunched up, eyes lidded, mouth a perfect heart shape.

“Are you _laughing_?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head and tries to wave him off but he can’t hide it. Jongin steps back, hands on his hips triumphantly and waits it out. It’s the most entertaining minute of his week.

Finally Kyungsoo takes a few long breaths and composes himself. “How?” he manages.

“How what?”

“It’s ridiculous. How are you so easy to get along with?”

Jongin shrugs happily. “Guess I’m friend-shaped after all.”

Kyungsoo runs a hand through his hair and attempts to look aloof as he always does; lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. But this time it fails miserably and his smile peeks out. “God dammit.” Even in the faint golden glow Jongin can see the other witch’s ears deepening in color.

“Besides,” Jongin says loftily. “Your menagerie likes me too.”

“They’re terrible judges of character,” Kyungsoo shoots back, motioning for Jongin to head towards the steps; quick tour time is apparently over.

“Hey, they let Junmyeon in.”

“I guess maybe he’s… friend-shaped too.” Kyungsoo says quietly, poking Jongin in the side as he attempts to chivalrously let Kyungsoo walk up the stairs first. So Jongin takes the steps two at a time and is ready with an arm to sling companionably around Kyungsoo’s shoulders when he emerges. And to his great delight it’s not shrugged off.

Receding behind them the golden light flickers happily in the distance.

* * *

Kyungsoo rings Junmyeon the moment they return to the workshop. Phones are a peculiar luxury these days and Jongin is entranced, laying on the floor of his loft bedroom with his head propped at the top of the staircase, listening to Kyungsoo murmur down the line as he paces back and forth down below, Cerberus a bouncing cloud at his ankles.

Somewhere in the rafters a beam creaks as Bucephalus shifts heavily in his sleep while Kyungsoo speaks. “No,” he says firmly. “You know there’s not enough hours before sunup left for them to put on the auction and not be selling off a corpse. Trust me, none of you look half as pretty when you’re dead each day. Stay at work for tonight. Wonho says everything should be up and running tomorrow night at the earliest.”

There’s a pause and Jongin can almost feel the anger and worry emanating from the other end of the line as Kyungsoo pulls the handset away from his ear with a grimace before settling it back again once there’s a pause.

“No don’t you dare go rushing in blind—I _know_ you’re thinking of Sehun. But we’ll need some recon done first and I know just the person to call. I’ll have him head down to the backwater district, look over the place for us today and be ready with all the silver bullets you want tomorrow night. Okay?”

Marshmallow pads out from the direction of the cleaned up couch and heads for the bottom of the stairs as Kyungsoo stops dead in his pacing tracks. “Jongin is fine—and that’s absolutely none of your business,” he says. “ _Goodnight_.”

Kyungsoo tosses the handset onto the couch cushions and glances up.

“Junmyeon says hello.”

Jongin smiles, watching Marshmallow begin to carefully haul his bulk up the small steps. “Sounds like he said more than that.”

Kyungsoo huffs. “He’s a nosy vampire. What you and I do is none of his concern.”

“Should just tell him we eloped or something.”Jongin resignedly rolls to one side in the doorway to avoid being stepped on by a very large, very lava-filled dog determined to get past to the borrowed bed. Kyungsoo makes a faintly amused sound.

“That might actually kill him -again- from happiness.”

“I wasn’t aware that his kind could feel such emotions to be honest. Not in any real way.”

Kyungsoo disappears from sight on the lower floor but his voice still carries up. “He’s the master of the city of Seouls. If anyone can, it’s him.”

“How is it that this kidnapping auction can go on under his nose and he not know about it?”

“That’s the strange part.” Kyungsoo’s voice is momentarily muffled. “It shouldn’t be possible. But perhaps it’s a rival bloodline that’s snuck into the city and they’ve kept a very low profile until they snatched someone that Junmyeon’s close to. Either way we’ll find out first thing tomorrow night.”

The next few footsteps are lighter and Kyungsoo rounds back into view, dressed in soft silver pajamas. The sight abruptly makes Jongin’s chest feel warm; Kyungsoo looks somehow smaller and it’s-

“Hold on. Turn around?”

Kyungsoo looks up. “You’re asking to see my ass?”

Jongin points a finger. “Did I just see a picture on it?”

“You leave my butt penguin alone. It’s cute.”

Jongin grins. “I thought so.”

“Like you even have grown up pajamas. You don’t even sleep in a shirt.”

Jongin raises one shoulder. “Now who’s looking?”

A pillow sails playfully up and misses Jongin’s head by a good few inches; he retreats back into his bedroom to the sound of Kyungsoo’s laughter only to be greeted by a snoring dog drooling onto his cover.

“Soo? Call your hellhound back downstairs.”

“Nope,” Kyungsoo yells back. “He’s all yours tonight.”

“I think he might set the sheets on fire.”

“Only if you kick him in your sleep.” Kyungsoo replies cheerfully. “Goodnight Jongin.”

The pillow is lobbed back down. 

* * *

“You are,” Jongin says firmly as he swipes a shelf with a feather duster. “Absolutely _not_ helping.”

Cerberus ignores him, all three mouths clamped onto to Jongin’s pants cuff and he wrestles with it while Jongin walks. It results in a fluffy, growling anklet that sides along the floor with every step Jongin takes.

Kyungsoo had left at dawn after feeding Bucephalus, leaving a note promising to return with the supplies they’ll all need for later that night as well as their scout. So Jongin has mostly busied himself with the main way he’s still paying off his debt: housekeeping.

So far he’s managed to completely organize most of the lower floor’s inventory, knowing enough about magic’s many flavors to categorize Kyungsoo’s _vast_ , rambling collection into something legible. He’s even sorted the different vials and beakers and jars by color which is making him endlessly amused at the thought of Kyungsoo’s reaction when he spots it.

The shelves now fully dusted for what he suspects is the first time since Kyungsoo moved in, Jongin drags his playful leg warmer carefully over to the couch and folds up the blanket Kyungsoo has been using while Jongin -somewhat guiltily- occupies his bed. As he flicks the soft cover out though, several scrolls and pages flutter to the floor. Jongin scratches Cerberus behind one of his six ears as he bends to tidy them back up.

With a small jolt of surprise Jongin realizes they’re covered in Kyungsoo’s sketches and handwriting. They’re preliminary schematics for Jongin’s weapon and wow… Jongin flips through the pages, turning the largest scroll this way and that to look at the dozens of tiny diagrams and notes Kyungsoo has scribbled about the place; everything from the properties of reverse-engineering the chambering mechanism to withstand the magical recoil to the best materials that can be sourced for making enchanted bullets to… Jongin squints at the corner.

There’s a quick sketch of their personal casting symbols. Kyungsoo has doodled the half-moons in several iterations; some separate, some overlapping almost perfectly so Jongin can finally see how much they really do compliment each other. And beside them in the tiniest letters are the words that caught his eye, mixed amongst the rest.

_Fate? Fated? More research needed. ~~Ask Junmyeon~~ _

_January… check moon phases for 12 th and 14th_

_~~Matching~~ _ _dual casting efficient! ~~~~_

_Ammunition + clips_

_~~Arrogant~~ _ _cute??_

_North… north…_

_Groceries (and clothes for Jongin, idiot has nothing with him)_

_Respond to Shownu’s invitation by next week_

Jongin traces his finger along the word ‘cute’ scribbled next to the sketch of his symbol, mind racing a million miles a minute. For some reason seeing that in Kyungsoo’s precise handwriting makes Jongin tingle with warmth. Does it really mean him?

“What do you think?” Jongin asks Cerberus as he quickly arranges the papers back properly and stacks them on top of the folded blanket. “Is it possible he thinks I’m cute?”

Cerberus continues to chew on Jongin’s hem in lieu of answering. One mouth drools happily. Jongin sighs and reaches down to tug him loose before he has no cuffs left. After a few long tugs the puppy pops off with a faintly disappointed whine so Jongin props him against his hip. “I’m taking to you. The least you could do is not make it so I have to wash my clothes twice in one day.”

Cerberus’ little legs cycle along in the air as Jongin walks with him to the spell scroll piles that are a disaster on the entrance area’s floor. Keeping Cerberus cradled in the crook of an elbow Jongin begins the laborious task of one-handedly arranging the enchanted rolls. He’s not long began it before his armful is wriggling furiously, trio of heads turned towards the front door.

“What is it boy? Daddy home?”

Cerberus yips delightedly, echoed in triplicate just as Kyungsoo steps through the warded door.

“I’m sorry… is _who_ home?”

Jongin sets Cerberus down and watches him race towards Kyungsoo, followed closely by the skittering of much larger claws as Marshmallow lopes quickly over because…

Kyungsoo has a very familiar figure with him.

Both of Kyungsoo’s companions instantly perform the peculiar acknowledging movement that spell-touched creatures do when they encounter a shifter; bowing their heads. Somehow they just… know. Jongin has always been endlessly fascinated at that. But right now he’s more interested in Kyungsoo’s guest who is staring at Jongin with wide, surprised eyes.

“You’re still here!” Jongdae exclaims. “Kyungsoo didn’t obliterate you on sight.”

Jongin laughs as Kyungsoo rubs the back of his neck, looking bashful.

“Nope! In fact I kind of invaded.”

Jongdae’s head swivels in such a perfect imitation of a cat that Jongin wonders exactly how much time he’s been spending in feline form. “You have a _roommate_?”

“…Technically?” Kyungsoo manages. “He’s just sleeping upstairs.”

“Isn’t that your bedroom?”

Kyungsoo’s fingers snap sharply, conjuring. “Life or death, remember. Sleeping arrangements can wait.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, the curves of his lips giving him a cheeky, knowing expression even through the silencing cantrip. Finally Jongin clears his throat and Kyungsoo reverses it.

“We’re in need of some reconnaissance done on a complex down by the backwater district.” Kyungsoo elaborates as they all move further in and gather around the workbench. “According to what I’ve been told there’s a gathering tonight and they have some apprentice vampires in their midst. And for tonight they’ll be down that end of the city. We need as much information as you can get on the layout, who is coming and going and how they’re keeping the baby vamps before the event.”

It’s only now that Jongin notices that Kyungsoo has his hands full of bags. He instantly moves to help him lift them all into the bench, pretending not to hear Jongdae’s happy purr. “Kyungsoo wants us to head there as soon as it’s dark. Any delay and Junmyeon is likely to charge off alone by the sounds of things.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows glide up. “He’s never been that attached to any of his apprentices before.”

Kyungsoo rustles through the bags, withdrawing an old world antique of a handgun. He sets it carefully on the bench top. “Sehun seems to be special. Enough that Junmyeon will walk through hellfire tonight to get to him.”

“Special seems to be going around right now,” Jongdae deadpans, following up with a swift “And I’ll head there now,” as Kyungsoo raises his fingers warningly again. “I’ll be back late this afternoon.”

“Thank you. I really owe you,” Kyungsoo replies. Jongdae simply pats him on the shoulder, gives a long look at Jongin and then goes to give a patiently waiting hellhound a pat on the way out.

Jongin immediately gravitates towards the weapon. He picks it up and turns it over in his hands, getting used to the weight. A faint worn down etching in the side reads S&W. Jongin handles the heirloom with due care. “This looks crazy old. You’re sure you can get it working, even magically?”

Kyungsoo’s eyes loll up to him in the most ‘have you _met_ me?’ look. “No, I bought it because I like collecting heirlooms,” he drawls. Jongin would laugh but he catches on one set of words.

“You bought it? For me?”

“We need a base model to start with. Even one hundreds of years old. The law here used to carry these. Here,” Kyungsoo steps closer, places his hands around Jongin’s on the weapon and guides Jongin’s thumb towards the button to eject the clip. It drops out and Kyungsoo catches it in his palm before it can hit the floor. “Enough space for multiple rounds, although we’ll have to imbue each bullet with that you want it to do.”

“How much for I owe you for it?” Jongin mumbles. Kyungsoo’s hand is still holding his in place as he uses his other to slide the clip back into the butt, pushing it home with the heel of his hand until it clicks. So much warmth. Jongin’s right back to feeling like a high-schooler.

“Nothing. It’s part of the service.” Kyungsoo replies. He’s so close that Jongin can faintly smell his magic. It’s so strangely familiar that his heart decides now is a great time to go double-time too. Kyungsoo’s shoulder presses against Jongin’s forearm as he explains the mechanics of the slide, trigger, what he plans to do with them and it’s all Jongin can do to focus on the words because Soo smells like garnet and birch…

“So what do you think?”

Jongin snaps to. “Uh, sorry?”

“About the weapon?” Is it Jongin’s imagination or are Kyungsoo’s cheeks dusted with color? He blinks up at Jongin in the following silence and Jongin’s muddled brain struggles to come up with a coherent answer when all he can think is how amazing Kyungsoo looks like this, here in his element explaining his craft…

When Jongin doesn’t respond Kyungsoo’s eyes dip to his lips and he frowns. “Jonginnie?”

“P-pardon?”

“I said what do-”

“You called me Jonginnie.”

Kyungsoo pauses. “I did?”

“Yeah,” Jongin breathes out. The air feels heavy with something other than just their magic as Kyungsoo prolongs the charged silence, his eyes now flicking between Jongin’s mouth and eyes. Gathering his courage Jongin slips a finger loose and winds it around Kyungsoo’s pinkie against the gun metal.

“I…” Kyungsoo swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m not blind. But I keep thinking about how strangely fate works and-”

“Do you really think I’m cute?” Jongin blurts out.

Kyungsoo freezes, the only thing moving being his blush which races up to his ears. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times and then finally shuts his eyes.

“Yes,” he whispers. “So help me I do.”

Jongin’s heart leaps into his throat, hammering. He licks his lips and lowers his head down a fraction. “You remember how I said you would know when I’m really flirting?” he whispers against Kyungsoo’s temple.

Eyes still closed, Kyungsoo nods jerkily.

Jongin carefully reaches around and slips the gun from their hands, setting it aside on the table. Then he takes hold of Kyungsoo’s hand, linking their fingers together. “This is me doing it right now.”

Kyungsoo’s breath comes out all in a rush and, eyes still closed, he makes a little wounded sound. “But you already know I’m not like… everyone else. Not in that way.”

“That doesn’t bother me.” Jongin feels Kyungsoo give a faint, shy squeeze of their joined hands at that. “So this goes at your pace. Whatever you want. And whatever you don’t,” he adds hurriedly. “I’ll listen.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes finally open. “I don’t want to be hurt,” he whispers. “Not again.”

Jongin’s thumb makes tiny circles against the back of Kyungsoo’s hand. “I can promise that at least will never happen. Everything else is up to you.”

“That witch I told you about? The last one I knew?”

Jongin’s eyes narrow. “He hurt you.”

Kyungsoo nods, all of a sudden looking very small and fragile. Jongin feels a swell of fierce protectiveness wash over him; if the man weren’t already likely dead he would very much like to volunteer to kill him again. To have Kyungsoo in your arms, willing and trusting and then do something like that…

Jongin takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry you experienced that. For what it’s worth. And we don’t have to rush anything. It’s enough… just knowing that I like you and that your sassy ass likes me back. I kind of think our magic knew each other before we did. I can’t explain it otherwise.”

Kyungsoo snorts a laugh and a Jongin grins at him, endlessly excited to be the source of that deep sound. Kyungsoo lets himself chuckle until he looks much brighter and Jongin’s own face softens into a fond look.

“We have things to do tonight. Important stuff. And I know that takes precedence so we’ll get ready and-”

“Can I kiss you?” Kyungsoo breathes out in a tumble. “Just… once?”

Jongin blinks. “A-are you sure?”

In silent answer Kyungsoo stretches up on his tiptoes and presses his lips against Jongin’s; they’re soft and full and Jongin has never felt anything better in his entire fucking life. He adds pressure when Kyungsoo flicks the tip of his tongue against his lower lip, settling his hand on Kyungsoo’s waist to hold him steady on his toes.

Kyungsoo explores Jongin’s mouth with languid strokes the moment he’s allowed, drawing embarrassingly needy sounds out of the other witch until he pulls back and drops down, looking _very_ much like the cat that found the cream. He even runs his tongue along his lips, chasing the taste.

Jongin moans softly. “Just a kiss huh?”

Kyungsoo’s mouth curves up on one side into a plush smirk. Swollen lips look devilish on him and he gives a gentle hum.

“That’s _me_ flirting.”

Jongin laughs so loudly he startles Bucephalus.

* * *

Kyungsoo spends almost all of the day juggling two workpieces; Jongin’s weapon and Junmyeon’s bullets. He moves with a familiar ease around his workbench, back and forth with occasional forays back into the depths of the bookshelves that Jongin has arranged neatly to fetch a new ingredient or piece of equipment.

A pot of spellcast silver heated to nearly a thousand degrees bubbles away in the center of an ash-drawn circle; every now and then Kyungsoo takes time to adjust the potency of holy water dripped carefully into it before the rack of bullets suspended above the mixture are lowered for exactly one coating, raised and let dry before the next one.

Jongin keeps up his work cleaning Kyungsoo’s jumbled mess of a workshop and so busies himself with packing, organizing, labeling and dusting more of the chaos to take his mind off the impending evening. He even configures a small charm to work on the replica cauldron Kyungsoo has stuffed in a corner to rinse the washcloths he uses, which seems to amuse Kyungsoo to no end.

Jongin has at least three heavy tomes in each arm and is carting them to one of the stacks he’s made based on mythical zoology when he spots Kyungsoo testing the runic symbol he’s been infusing steadily with drops of his own blood for the better part of the morning – it’s practically humming with energy. Jongin slows his movements as he watches discreetly because _this_ is Kyungsoo at his most magnificent – the one witch who can fuse magic and machinery.

Kyungsoo has his glasses on, a few top buttons undone and his movements are all ease and practice as he takes a deep breath, rolls his sleeve cuffs back to his elbows, reaches towards the sigil etched onto the wood. He swipes one palm across the symbol and the blood droplets half-dried at the edges sink into the wood like a living entity. The sigil glows with an unearthly red hue and Kyungsoo’s open hand flips, palm upward as he snaps his fingers into a fist, curls his forearm and _pulls_.

The magic doesn’t come easily, resisting the summons from it’s master until Kyungsoo strains heavily against it, tendons flaring as he brings his strength to bear until he finally tears the very air above the half moon symbol in half.

Jongin gapes as the piece of ley line energy rips through the summoning space, drawn from impossibly far away to Kyungsoo’s _command_. The sliver of magic hovers in the air like a torn ribbon, lighting the entire room with the same wavering glow Jongin remembers seeing in pictures of underwater aquariums. It’s like a flickering blue candle…

Kyungsoo huffs out a satisfied breath, pushing his hair back and Jongin’s stomach squeezes at how effortly sexy the other man _doesn’t_ know he is. It’s crazy.

Kyungsoo squares his shoulders, picks up the handgun and then proceeds to break down the components with quick movements until the gun is stripped down to it’s bare parts as if for cleaning. Then Kyungsoo takes each separate piece, rips off a fraction of the ley line and proceeds to wrap the object in it. With the thumb he pricked earlier he sketches a different rune on each part to seal the magic home in blood; first is the slide, the second the magazine and finally the framework. Each part soaks in the written commands and emerges altered to Kyungsoo’s specifications, glowing like a hot coal once the magic is extinguished. The runes he’s affixed to each piece remain burned into them in their appropriate locations and to Jongin’s great delight they’re all enclosed in a half moon shape.

Kyungsoo’s trademark. His emblem.

His seemingly other half of Jongin’s moon.

At that thought Jongin quietly sets down his zoology tomes and goes rifling in another stack he set aside several hours earlier until he comes up with the heavy book he had glimpsed.

Astrology wasn’t exactly his forte at home but Jongin has spoken to enough mages on his travels to realize the importance of birth months in magic-born children. He remembers Kyungsoo’s scribbles on his schematic scroll and flips quickly through the phases of the moon for those dates, tossing aside page after page until-

Jongin’s finger stills over the two dates. The moon phases… exactly one year and two days apart are a _perfect_ compliment to each other. Together they make a whole.

Jongin looks up. No wonder Kyungsoo’s magic smelled so familiar to his own… it wasn’t just the year or month, it was the moon’s celestial position itself. The individual phase each witch is told once they show the illegal signs of being able to summon magic. The one that dictates their unique sigil for the rest of their life.

To have two that fit so perfectly, to have such perfect lunar dates, magic so similar in taste belonging to two witches born on opposite ends of the country… Jongin fumbles with the knowledge. No wonder there had been a strange pull between their magics, an ease to their interactions. Jealousy and attraction, laughter and openness in such a short time.

This might be more than fate. It might just be something akin to destiny.

Because overlapping sigils mean a full moon and no witch ever holds a whole moon in their sigil. The power upscale for that would be insane. Jongin’s thoughts race with the possibilities, the memory of how quickly and easily they dual-casted, how-

A whisper of a breeze makes Jongin turn. This time at least he’s calmer and doesn’t reach for his blade.

“Hello Junmyeon.”

The vampire smiles, dressed head to toe in the most impractical outfit Jongin has ever laid eyes on -a stunning red and black suit, jacket unclasped to expose his pale chest- but then again, vampires really were all about flair and tonight Junmyeon has a point to make. “I’m sorry I’m early. I couldn’t sleep.”

Jongin glances at the windows. It’s not quite sundown but he knows not to be surprised any more at this either. “It’s okay, I think Kyungsoo is nearly finished.”

Marshmallow skids up to Junmyeon in a jumble of cracks and steam, fangs bared for show even as his tail is going a hundred miles an hour.

“You’re so ridiculous,” Jongin says to the hellhound as Junmyeon crouches down to roll him over for belly rubs. “Kyungsoo should trade you for an alarm.”

Junmyeon glances up, brows knitted. “He’s not here to be dangerous. More a pre-warning system.”

Jongin would be confused but he’s frankly already given up trying to understand Kyungsoo’s guard dogs. “I’ll take your word for it,” he laughs, waving a hand. “Just don’t let him singe the floorboards.”

* * *

Jongin keeps Junmyeon company until Kyungsoo finishes and Jongdae finally joins them. Just before the sun disappears the shifter arrives, hair sticking in all directions and clothes looking like they were put back on in a rush.

Kyungsoo lets him in through the wards with a very concerned, “What happened?”

Jongin and Junmyeon join them as Jongdae runs a frazzled hand through his hair, trying to flatten it. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he can speak properly and Jongin gets the impression the little cat ran the entire way back here.

“It’s the gathering,” Jongdae pants. “It’s not a vampire auction. Well not _just_ that.”

Kyungsoo frowns. “What do you mean?”

Jongdae swallows down a breath. “It’s the Masquerade.”

Jongin blanks, not recognizing the name as both Kyungsoo and Junmyeon recoil; he’s missed something vital here. “What the hell is that?”

“The Masquerade appears for only one night at a time. A random city, a random building. No one knows how it moves or even the next designated location until it shows up.”

“That… doesn’t exactly sound terrifying.”

“It’s not by itself,” Junmyeon says, his tone a low warning for Jongin to take this seriously. “It’s who attends that makes it dangerous. Every kind of creature you like to hunt? There’s a great chance it’ll turn up there tonight, drawn by the power of the place.”

Jongin frowns, looking between the men. “But who runs such a thing?”

Kyungsoo looks grim. “The council. Or at least one of their number who used to belong. A member who succumbed to magical overexposure and became uncontrollably addicted. I’ve only encountered one other like it.”

“Wait,” Jongin blanches. “I’ve not heard of this before. It certainly doesn’t happen where I’m from.”

“Then consider yourself lucky,” Jongdae says quietly. “They become disgusting things that wear the shells of whichever council member they once were. People say they have to put a mask on over their heads because that strange faceless veneer they usually have? It’s rotting away underneath. So we call any of them we find the Harlequin.”

“Okay that’s… vile.”

Kyungsoo pulls a face, arms coming up to cross over himself, almost like a self-soothing hug. “I hate them. All they want is endless power. They don’t behave rationally any more, they just crave it. That’s why they drag around this abomination with them from place to place; it attracts things for them to feed on. What goes in doesn’t always come out.”

“Sehun is in there?” Junmyeon looks to Jongdae. “Did you find any coffins, makeshift or otherwise?”

“There’s a few yes, so your apprentice will be in amongst them. They were setting up inside the warehouse when I was there. I didn’t see the Harlequin though.”

“You won’t until dark,” Kyungsoo says. “It’ll feed once things get underway.”

“I only have tonight to get Sehun,” An ethereal breeze whips around their ankles, the first sign of Junmyeon’s emotions as he gathers himself. “I understand if you don’t want to go and-”

Kyungsoo’s fingers resting against his bicep click. “Shut up,” he says softly. “I’ll be right there with you. Don’t make me say it twice.”

Junmyeon would smile -Jongin can see it in the way his eyes crinkle into crescents- but he can’t until the cantrip is reversed. So instead he pretends to be unable to breathe until Kyungsoo reverses it with a roll of his eyes.

“We’re you a walking dad joke when you were still alive?”

“That term didn’t exist back then,” Junmyeon says primly, dusting imaginary dirt off his jacket. “But thank you,” he says quietly. “For coming along.”

“I’m not scared of a masked addict and his monsters,” Jongin adds. “You’ve got us both.”

“I’m sorry a cat isn’t of much help from here on out,” Jongdae exhales slowly. “But a witch, a magitechnician and a master vampire... If anyone has a chance against a Harlequin, it’s you.”

“Let’s get ready,” Kyungsoo drops his arms and turns around, sliding past Jongin with a gentle hand to his waist. “We should head out as soon as possible.” He makes for the items on the desk, all cooling from the magic. “Jongdae tell me everything you can about the layout. We’re not going to go in without some idea of what’s there.”

Jongin tests the residual heat on his gun with a fingertip; it’s still hot. “I’ll infuse the clip with a couple of my vials before we leave. It’ll save time.”

“There will still be the vamps who took your Sehun in there,” Kyungsoo looks to Junmyeon. “Your bullets are coated and ready.”

Junmyeon gives a solemn nod “Thank you.”

“You should be able to assemble your weapon soon,” Kyungsoo adds to Jongin. “Choose your spells well; I know you don’t have a lot of them.”

“You’ll need a quick exit if things go to shit.” Jongdae looks between them all, worried. “That area is crowded with broken buildings and construction equipment that hasn’t been used since before I was born. So nothing will get through unless they pretty much climb it to get to the road.”

“We’ve got that covered.” Kyungsoo looks up to the rafters and gives a sharp whistle. He’s answered by a long, loud roar. “Promise.”

As Junmyeon slides his silver bullets into a hidden pocket on his jacket Jongin gets a glimpse of a handgun in there. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a master use a weapon before.”

Junmyeon’s mouth hikes up on one side. “The older you get, the more you realize that anything can be an advantage if used right.”

Kyungsoo scrubs a quick hand through his summoning circle, breaking it. “And besides, he’s going to have more than his fists and fangs tonight. We’re going to need it.”

“Need what?”

Kyungsoo’s eyes raise to Junmyeon and a knowing look spreads slowly across his face. “”Tonight,” he says. “You can take Cerberus for a walk.”

* * *

Bucephalus touches down behind a mound of rubble when the moon is a quarter way across the night sky. He crouches obligingly so his riders can slide off and then at Kyungsoo’s instruction slinks away to find a place to hide.

Kyungsoo peers over the crest of shattered stonework and crumbled asphalt. “The Masquerade is operational.”

And Jongin can _feel_ it. Like a giant tug on his bones, there’s something calling to him. It’s like an itch he desperately wants to scratch but doesn’t now how. “This is eerie,” he says, crouching beside Kyungsoo and looking towards the street-facing entrance. Beyond the road a huge wolf shifter prowls towards the open, glowing doors, claws leaving gouges in the concrete. “What keeps them all from tearing each other apart once they’re inside? Or just leaving altogether?”

Junmyeon is calmly loading bullets into his weapon without looking up at the building. “Sirens. Or at least a recording of their voices. It lulls everything nearby into a stupor.”

“How do we avoid it?”

“We don’t.” Kyungsoo says simply. “Not entirely. We allow it to take us. It’s the only way we’ll pass amongst them unnoticed.”

“How is that helpful if we want to get to Sehun?”

Junmyeon’s gun makes a faint sound as he cocks the slide. “Keep me in sight and follow where I go. I’m not as easily rolled as mortals.”

The faint yip from his ankle takes all the dramatic weight out of his words. Junmyeon pets Cerberus with a fond look.

“I’m guessing we’ll have a few minutes of clarity when we get inside. As long as you have your diamond on you it should keep you from being zombified completely.” Kyungsoo tells Jongin. “Amplify it with your blood if you have to.”

“And what’s the two foot fluffball going to do while we’re all skirting around mysterious beasts?”

Junmyeon, currently scratching under one of Cerberus’ chins gives Jongin a smile. “He’s here as backup.”

Jongin eyes the furiously wagging tail with great confusion. Cerberus’ whole rear is shuffling with how excited he looks. Jongin tips himself towards Kyungsoo. “If he gets eaten I’m going to be incredibly upset. Just so you know.”

“He won’t be.” Kyungsoo’s hand is suddenly a brief, warm weight at the small of his back. He gives Jongin a small, reassuring pat. “Let’s do this.”

Kyungsoo then hauls himself over the lip of the rubble, checks the surroundings and slides down in a scattering of rocks, Junmyeon following with an unnaturally elegant leap. Jongin scoops up Cerberus who is struggling to excitedly clamber over a particularly slippery stone after them, little legs wiggling in the air and tucks him under his arm.

Then he slides down after the others.

The moment they hit the road a fey drifts by as if in a dream, barely noticing the trio as it floats towards the doorway. Junmyeon falls into step after it, walking towards the building’s double doors that have been draped with ominous red silk; the only sign that anything is inside.

As Jongin approaches with Kyungsoo he begins to hear the first stirrings of a faint song. It begins like white noise; barely noticeable as it builds. Then as they reach the door it evolves into the tinkling of bells and a woman’s voice weaving through the melody. Jongin slows, his footsteps shuffling. But this isn’t anything like the incubi… instead it feels like his brain is slowly filling with cotton wool. He’s never put himself in the path of a siren deliberately and it’s frightening to feel an invisible tug towards something he _knows_ in the back of his mind is evil, but can’t stop himself.

Looking around as they enter, Jongin can see the same mix of fear and resistance on the faces of all the creatures inside; elves, shifters, fey folk and even the occasional lumbering beast as they all circle aimlessly on the ground floor of the warehouse. No one wants to be here but none can seemingly resist.

None can resist…

_None can…_

_Resist…_

_Why resist?_

_Why?_

_There is no need…_

Kyungsoo’s eyes meeting his own brings Jongin a startling moment of clarity and he immediately presses his thumbnail into his palm hard enough to scratch the skin. Then he slips his hand into his pocket and grips the diamond there, brushing it with blood.

A wash of brief warmth through his mind pushes back the spell being continuously cast and Jongin realizes with a start he’s already circling the floor without knowing it, moving like a zombie through the others for a few minutes. Reaching out he grabs Kyungsoo’s hand as he passes again and sharply tugs him to one side. A nearby werebeast’s yellow eyes follow their movement and Jongin ignores it, forcing himself to concentrate. To resist.

Slowly the voice fades into the background as the diamond dampens enough of the siren’s song that Jongin can start to think clearly. Inside the factory the ground floor is draped in silken cloths that lend it a strangely formless shape and boarded by flanking staircases that lead to the terrace level above; Jongin cranes his head around.

There are no vampires or coffins on the lower floor, just living victims circling endlessly like fish in a circular pond. Jongin finally feels Kyungsoo squeeze back and looks to him.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I think I’m going to throw up,” he mutters. “I hate being ensorcelled.”

“I can’t see Junmyeon down here,” Jongin realizes.

“How long were we under?”

“Not long I don’t think.” On a whim Jongin lifts his chin to the casement windows along the upper floor, checking. “The moon has barely moved.”

Kyungsoo quickly pricks his thumb and empowers his own diamond a little more. “I didn’t expect to go under so quickly. I’m sorry, I thought we’d have a minute or two at least. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Let’s get upstairs. The moment Junmyeon stops the recording everything trapped down here is going to be _very_ pissed.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t even hesitate: he pushes through the last of the swirling bodies towards the stairs. And it’s only as he goes to follow that Jongin realizes something that makes his blood run cold.

“Soo,” he hisses frantically. “I don’t have Cerberus. He must have got loose when I was rolled.”

Kyungsoo reaches the base of the metal stairs. “If he’s anywhere he’ll be with Junmyeon.”

“Junmyeon is hyper-focused right now.”

“If I tell you Cerberus can take care of himself will you believe me?”

“He’s a puppy.”

“Trust me.” Kyungsoo starts to ascend. “He loves Junmyeon and won’t be far from him.”

Jongin swears under his breath, reaches behind his neck and draws his knife from its spine sheath. “Lead the way.”

Kyungsoo takes the rickety stairs two at a time. The upper terrace looks even older; rusted steel and empty, save for a door at one end. Kyungsoo crosses over to it and tries the handle. It’s locked.

Stepping back, Kyungsoo takes a a second to brace himself before kicking the door open with enough force to slam it against the wall inside. A long corridor looms ahead and to Jongin’s great relief a familiar puffball streaks out of one of the side rooms along it, barks at them once and disappears back.

Jongin jogs up the corridor and follows. Inside he finds Cerberus and Junmyeon, both crouched on another terrace walkway that overseas a smaller, lower space below. Junmyeon waves them over then puts a finger to his lips.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the source of the recording. This place was condemned decades ago and half the areas have caved in,” he whispers. “But look down there.”

Jongin inches forward with Kyungsoo and peers down. He recoils almost instantly.

Below them lies a nest of moving, writhing corpses. Nearly a dozen hideous, emaciated ghouls squirming over each other in a terrifying knot of decaying flesh. Junmyeon is emotionless as he indicates the same number of open coffins nearby. All but one are empty.

“I think they are -or they _were_ \- the vampires who brought Sehun here.”

Jongin takes another peek. “What the hell happened to them?”

“They’ve been drained by the Harlequin. Magic is all that sustains us after we die, contained in our bloodlines and transferred when we bite. And mine is the most powerful you can find.”

“They were the first course,” Kyungsoo murmurs in realization, disgusted. “Perhaps they thought they could save themselves by bringing the Harlequin one of Junmyeon’s bloodline. But the were wrong.”

“A Harlequin consumes all,” Junmyeon says gravely. “And it would have saved the best for last.”

As he says it Cerberus gives a faint growl of warning; below them the nest of corpses has started to contort, wriggling and slavering. And then it parts.

A rotting, humanoid shape rises up from the centre. Jongin barely _recognizes_ it as a former council member it’s so disfigured. Bones that have cracked the wrong way shuffle into movement beneath what clothes it used to wear, and it’s face…

Where there was once the familiar smooth eeriness Jongin has hated from a young age a dirty, soaked mask now covers the shape, dripping with a viscous substance that looks like blood after it has pooled too long at the bottom of a dead thing.

The moment it turns it’s unseeing head towards the final coffin Junmyeon shoots up. Kyungsoo grabs for him and barely manages to latch onto his leg before he vaults over.

“Hold still! We need to see if it’s Sehun first. If he’s not in that box it still may lead us to him.”

With reluctance that rolls off him in waves, Junmyeon returns to a temporary crouch. He slips his hand into his jacket and withdraws his gun with a coldness that makes Jongin’s skin rise in goosebumps.

The Harlequin shuffles off it’s undead nest and over to the coffin. The lid is peeled back with a creak and the monster slowly leans over to peer inside like something out of a nightmare.

The moment a furious scream from within the coffin cuts the air Junmyeon is on his feet in familiarity. With one hand to the banister he vaults over and drops. Kyungsoo shares a look with Jongin, stands and follows.

Jongin gathers his courage, checks below and flings himself off; his boots crunch satisfyingly into the skull of a ghoul as he lands, coat flaring out just in time to see Kyungsoo catch the incoming claw of another as it swipes for his face and bend it backwards with brute force until it snaps off.

Jongin pushes to his feet, swings and watches his long knife slice the ghoul’s torso in half. It tumbles apart with a gush of rotting insides and a horrid screech.

The Harlequin’s head whips around.

“Hey!” Jongin shouts, drawing his pistol from his waistband and aiming it point blank at the rushing face of another ghoul that flings itself up and at him. He squeezes the trigger and the runes on his gun flare to life as he fires, piercing the creature’s cranium between it’s eyes with a shard of solid ice. It drops lifelessly between him and the Harlequin is visible once more. “You want magic? Come get it!”

He sees Kyungsoo in his peripheral slamming his fist into a ghoul’s chest as it leaps at him, skeletal arms and legs extended. In front of him Junmyeon is a whirling dance of death, ripping the head from one ghoul as another latches onto his back; angling his handgun underneath it’s chin as the hideous face comes over his shoulder and putting a silver bullet through it. As both ghouls drop he starts to wade through the rest to get to Sehun. Another grabs his leg and Junmyeon snarls, fangs on full display for the first time.

Jongin spins, flinging his blade. The ghoul below Junmyeon collapses screaming, clawing at the knife in its chest. Taking the gap at a run Jongin jumps over the dying creature, yanking his blade and bringing it to bear as he lands atop another, sinking the weapon heavily through skin, ribs, heart and finally to the floor.

The scent of birch fills the air as Kyungsoo crouches, shoving a body out of the way to access the concrete. In the ex-vampire’s blood he begins to scrawl his symbol on the ground.

The Harlequin screeches something in a decayed throat, seeing that. All the remaining ghouls lurch to their feet and close in.

Jongin sees Junmyeon’s hand extend and catch the closest on as it runs for him, lifting it off the ground to crush it’s throat and toss it aside like a rag doll.

“Harlequin!” he yells. “You have that which is mine!”

Jongin fends off the pair of rotting corpses that propel themselves at him, slicing one head from it’s shoulders before extending his opposite arm to send a white hot ball of fire searing toward the second with his gun.

And that’s when he feels it.

Jongin looks over.

The Harlequin has abandoned Sehun’s coffin and is instead reaching for it’s own face. Withered fingers grab at the material and it snatches it away. As it does the very air seems to reverse polarity.

The worst kind of pain fills Jongin’s body. Searing, debilitating, it _burns_ through every inch of him. Like a thousand knives, a million cuts to his skin - and in horror he feels his magic awaken inside him. But not at his command

It’s trying to crawl out of him.

To the Harlequin.

Jongin screams, falling to his knees. Beside him Kyungsoo collapses too, hands clasped to his ears as if he can somehow hold his own magic inside his mind.

The Harlequin draws it’s face up and within it there is only void. The vicious liquid Jongin had first thought was blood is void leaking out; the space between stars where nothingness exists.

The opposite of magic. Eternal emptiness. Eternal _hunger_.

“Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo gasps. “Do it. _Now_.”

As Jongin watches, Junmyeon’s power pours in to fill the room to the brim; the cold wind of the graveyard and it’s all-consuming shade summoned from every corner until Junmyeon is straining to contain it all in one space. Above and around them the warehouse’s last remaining fluro lights crack, shattering with a burst of glass that rains down across them all. Even outside the ambience changes as every street lamp on the block simultaneously explodes.

The warehouse dips into complete shadow. The last ghouls momentarily freeze, confused.

Jongin’s body feels like it’s going to explode from within, his entire skin pulsing like an overripe fruit under the strain of the very magic in his blood trying being forced out. He can’t take it, he _can’t_ …

Out from between Junmyeon’s legs steps a very small, fluffy white shape.

Cerberus plants his little paws on the ground and lowers each of his heads, hackles up. And above him Junmyeon bites into his wrist, holding his arm out and letting the red liquid drip.

The blood… doesn’t make it to the floor.

Behind Cerberus a darkness swells, swallowing the offering. And with that… it grows. 

Jongin’s fracturing mind catches up; Junmyeon killed the lights. And just fed Cerberus’ shadow in an unlit room.

Junmyeon keeps the blood coming until Cerberus disappears, enveloped by the darkness that seems so impossibly immense, swirling and spinning outward until the taste of pure, unadulterated power is enough to drown in. It suffocates everything in it’s path while it builds and builds until it _tears_ down the center. An unearthly wind whips up like a tornado has just touched ground and out of the void steps Cerberus.

He’s made of stars. The Harlequin finds it’s personal emptiness staring back at itself, infinite and terrifyingly hungry. And this void has teeth.

The gigantic hound opens it’s three gaping maws and lunges at the Harlequin. Jongin suddenly feels a hand on his wrist.

Kyungsoo is beside him, the wind whipping so hard he almost can’t hold on. “Sigil,” he manages as Junmyeon reaches them, doubled over. Jongin can see his bloodied wrist is still leaking, the falling droplets being whisked away to be sucked with everything else into Cerberus’ hunger for magic. The void _and_ it’s stars.

Junmyeon helps the two men stumble back onto the space where Kyungsoo’s symbol has dried. As soon as they reach it Kyungsoo slams his foot onto the bloodied sketch, igniting the incantation.

A wave of force erupts around them, temporarily pushing back against the void. Both witches instantly suck in several deep breaths like drowning men finally finding air, feeling the skin-crawling drain on their magic recede temporarily. But even as it does the field wavers, bowing inward under the strain.

Not far away Cerberus flings the Harlequin against the wall with a sickening crack. Jongin angles his gun above their heads and pulls the trigger. His weapon’s runes spark to life: a ball of bright lightning streaks out like white-hot fire and pierces a high window, flaring off into the night sky.

Junmyeon has already disappeared back into the hungry wind, making for the coffin and it’s occupant. He reaches Sehun and bodily hauls him out with both hands under his arms; Jongin hadn’t known what to expect but a beautifully pale boy over a head taller than Junmyeon wasn’t it. He looks barely conscious.

But before Junmyeon even makes it back with his apprentice, Kyungsoo’s field buckles; Jongin lunges for him just as the magic crumples around them. Kyungsoo grabs hold of Jongin’s arms to try to steady them both as the pain begins anew, searing down to their very bones. He braces himself and screams through gritted teeth, eyes scrunched closed.

Just above them Jongin hears what he’d been hoping for since he sent up the flare; the heavy thump of a very angry quarter of a ton hitting the high windows. He squints up and out.

Bucephalus heaves himself against the glass, roaring, clawing against the panes until one fractures and he can swipe a massive paw through. His claws latch onto the framework and he starts to tear it back with a screech of buckling metal, the rest of the panes shattering under the strain.

Kyungsoo attempts to reignite his sigil and barely manages it without falling over, but he gains a weaker shield than before. Around them the remaining ghouls have found their way in the dark and have begun dragging themselves towards the pair. Jongin clears a path with bullet after bullet for Junmyeon who is half-carrying his weakened apprentice to reach them. Finally his clip clicks empty.

Jongin can _feel_ how weak the field is around them as soon as they’re all together. Kyungsoo’s head is draped against Jongin’s chest as he grimaces in pain, breathing heavily through trying to keep it up. They’re not going to last. Above them Bucephalus roars for Kyungsoo, the ghouls climb over their fallen to reach them and Jongin… he…

… he remembers.

“Use my magic,” he hisses, gathering Kyungsoo’s hand in his own and bringing them to rest above his heart. Even speaking feels like his jaw is coming loose at the joints. There’s too much hunger in here, too much sucking, raw power that _needs_ to feed or else it will consume everything… starting with them.

Kyungsoo groans, nodding.

Jongin drags the toe of his boot through the pool of blood on the floor and scratches out his half of the moon that makes Kyungsoo’s sigil perfectly whole. “Everyone in.”

Jongin cradles Kyungsoo against himself, tugs Junmyeon and Sehun in tight around them and summons everything he has, every drop of power he’s ever felt. Their combined symbols ignite under the dual-cast and the shield pulses to life, just as the ghouls slam into it.

Kyungsoo’s shoulders expand instantly as some of the metaphysical weight is lifted. He slowly raises his head.

“A mote of fire?”

Jongin has just enough energy left to smile. He threads their fingers together and closes his eyes, tilting down until he can rest his forehead on Kyungsoo’s. He gives the last of his strength. Garnet and birch.

Their shield ignites.

The ghouls scream as they’re incinerated, falling away into mutilated, burned body parts. Above them the sound of wings can be heard as Bucephalus breaks through the window’s frame and soars in.

“Cerberus!” Jongin shouts. “ _Finish it_.”

Cerberus opens every one of his mouths and advances on the crumpled form of the Harlequin, giving it a glimpse of true, eternal emptiness before the hound picks him up and tears him apart.

The result is like a small star imploding. Magic meeting void; matter and antimatter cancelling each other out in an outward burst of energy so strong it fractures the very bedrock and foundations of the factory.

The heavy walls around them start to crumble. Jongin cracks open his eyes and instantly drops the dual-cast shield. Bucephalus circles down, lands with a thump on the bodies and Kyungsoo helps load the semi-conscious Sehun onto his back, followed by Junmyeon to keep him steady.

Jongin hurriedly looks over to the epicenter of the blast. In the very middle of a small, smoking crater lies a familiar bundle of white fluff. Thin lines of concrete star to pour down like snow all around them. “We have to get to him.”

Kyungsoo takes point on Bucephalus’ broad back, tucking his knees behind the leathery wings and holding out a hand for Jongin. “This whole place is coming down. Move!”

Jongin scrambles up, taking hold of Kyungsoo’s waist as a chunk breaks free from the ceiling and lands with a sickening crack nearby. Kyungsoo wheels Bucephalus around and the manticore leaps over the rubble and down into the crater. Jongin hooks a hand into Kyungsoo’s belt and leans himself down to one side as they bound past, arm outstretched. He grabs hold of the nape of Cerberus’ neck just in time and drags the puppy into his lap as Bucephalus leaves the ground, soaring up amongst the rain of metal, glass and concrete as the factory collapses inward.

The broken window frame looms down like a portal and Bucephalus blows through it, exploding out into the night air in a flare of leathery wings and glass shards. Real stars greet them.

Kyungsoo soars then all around on a slow arc to survey the aftermath and Jongin is surprised by how pleased he is to spot all the creatures from the lower level milling dazedly outside the destroyed building, looking shellshocked. “The blast must have knocked out the recording! They had time to escape.”

“I see them all. Good.” Kyungsoo gives a weary, happy sound. With a tug on Bucephalus’ mane he swings them in the opposite direction. “Let’s go home.”

Jongin looks down to the bundle in his lap, running his hand carefully through Cerberus’ fur. All three heads are passed out, snoring with exhaustion. Jongin pats the puppy’s side and hears his small tummy make a very contented rumble.

* * *

The sun is barely peaking up when Bucephalus soars through the windows to Kyungsoo’s workshop, landing with far more grace that his size suggests on the worn carpet.

All four men tumble from his back on unsteady legs, barely keeping Sehun upright between them. Already weakened from being away from his sire for so long, the apprentice has been fading the closer the hours have ticked towards sunrise. Junmyeon looks more worried than Jongin has ever seen him as he lowers Sehun to the couch.

“He can’t afford to sleep yet,” Junmyeon says quickly. “He has to properly feed from me or else he won’t wake tomorrow night. He’s weak.”

Kyungsoo’s fingers brush Jongin’s forearm. “We’ll give you two some privacy. I’ll fetch you some cloths to mop up afterwards.”

Jongin knows that very well; baby vamps make a hell of a mess when they very first feed. Luckily Junmyeon, even tired as he is will be able to handle it. And looking at the way he sits down and tenderly cradles Sehun’s head, Jongin has a distinct feeling that nothing will stop him from giving his apprentice the best of care tonight. There’s something very special there indeed.

Kyungsoo returns with a pile of clean towels and then guides Jongin away as Sehun’s mouth is placed against Junmyeon’s jugular. Like a newborn he’ll know what to do and neither witch wants to intrude on such an important bonding ceremony. Wordlessly they both ascend the stairs to Kyungsoo’s room, Jongin cradling the still-unconscious bundle in the crook of his arm. He places Cerberus into a small basket at the foot of his borrowed bed. “Will he be okay?”

“He’s from the same void as magic itself comes from,” Kyungsoo says quietly, shutting the door behind them. “Light and dark. His shadow hasn’t fed this well in over a year so he’s just digesting.”

Jongin sinks down into the bed, his legs finally atrophying and giving out. “I think we all need to sleep as deeply as him.”

“Not on my mattress while you’re covered in ghoul entrails,” Kyungsoo says wearily, reaching for Jongin and dragging him back up. “Shower first.”

“Don’t wanna,” Jongin whines, kicking off his boots. Kyungsoo sounds just as exhausted as he feels as he huffs a laugh and heads for the tiny en-suite to turn on the shower. Jongin sheds his coat and realizes that ah yeah, he really stinks of death. Yawning he unclasps his vial belt, kicks off his jeans and peels off his shirt. Everything is matted with undead fluids.

Kyungsoo returns while Jongin is in his underwear and shucks his shirt, flinging it onto the growing pile. “I don’t have the patience to do this one by one,” he says as Jongin politely averts his eyes. “So I’ll ask: would you like to join me?”

Jongin swallows, feeling torn. Part of him would love nothing more but even tired as he is he knows something has to be discussed first. He struggles to find the words.

“I… I don’t want to do anything wrong. I’m still—I want you to feel comfortable,” he croaks.

Kyungsoo crosses the small space between them and blinks weary eyes up at Jongin. “You’re being so kind. Thank you. As I said earlier I’m receptive to things if I like the person enough. Pleasure feels good. And I want to feel good with someone I like. With you. I just… don’t instinctively think of that when I look at people.” Jongin jolts as a single finger traces the hem of his boxers, tickling the lower part of his abs. “But I know handsome when I see it. And I really like the feeling of skin against skin. So since I almost died to a Harlequin tonight I think I’m going to need some comfort and gentle touches.” Kyungsoo smiles slowly. “Are _you_ okay with that?”

Jongin answers by tugging wordlessly Kyungsoo into the bathroom with him. He tests the water’s temperature and allows Kyungsoo to undress them both the last of the way. His dick gives a valiant attempt at a twitch as they both step in and Kyungsoo draws him into a gentle hug, pressing a kiss to Jongin’s collarbone.

Jongin tries to keep his hips angled away but Kyungsoo just chuckles against his skin and sluices water languidly over them both. “It’s fine,” he murmurs, kneading Jongin’s aching muscles while the other witch tips his hair back into the spray. “I promise.”

Jongin keeps his head stubbornly under the water until Kyungsoo sighs and shifts his own hips forward. Jongin nearly ends up with conjunctivitis -his eyes fly open so fast in the spray- as he feels an identical swelling cock brush his own.

“See? Stop thinking so much,” Kyungsoo says, taking them both in his hand and making Jongin choke, glancing down to drink in the sight of them. Gold and pink. They’re both too drained to be fully hard and contemplating orgasms but Kyungsoo gives them a long, satisfying stroke from root to tip before releasing and reaching for the soap.

He lathers it up as Jongin finds the shampoo. “Get clean, touch me as much as you want to and then fall asleep at my side. How does that sound just for tonight?”

It sounds a little like heaven right now. Jongin tells Kyungsoo as much and they sleepily fumble through the shower, bumping against each other and sliding hands everywhere they can reach, giggling through their yawns like a couple of teenagers. The sensation of his own wet, flushed skin slip-sliding against Kyungsoo’s pale body is a sight Jongin doesn’t want to ever stop experiencing and it feels strangely heavy with intimacy.

Kyungsoo’s hands are eventually squeezing cozy handfuls of Jongin’s ass when he decides they’re both finally acceptable for his sheets. So Jongin takes a pair of towels, dries them off with brusque movements and ties one on Kyungsoo’s head into the cutest little set of knots on either side. Then he leads him to the bed and slides under the covers naked, scooting over in anticipation of the company.

Kyungsoo doesn’t disappoint, slipping in and immediately wrapping both an arm and a leg over Jongin’s body. “Oh. Big, warm bear.”

Jongin snorts. “Who would have guessed you’re a cuddler?”

“Tell anyone and I’ll have Bucephalus drop you off the roof,” Kyungsoo mumbles contentedly from somewhere in the side of Jongin’s neck. He snuggles tighter as a long arm is draped around him.

Jongin would laugh but the moment he even thinks of it he succumbs to sleep, cuddled. Safe. A half of something whole. Fate made manifest.

Even if they still have towels in their hair.

* * *

Jongin wakes up to afternoon sunlight streaming through the little window nearby and three identical pink tongues lapping at his chin. He rubs his eyes and gives Cerberus a ruffle, pleased to have him awake and seemingly fine. The mattress shifts slightly and Kyungsoo yawns.

“What time is it?”

Jongin watches as Cerberus leaps off, bumping the door open to scramble downstairs. “I think it’s past midday.”

“Perfect,” Kyungsoo says. “The vampires should be all loved up by now. We can have something to eat.”

“Hey,” Jongin rolls over until he’s facing Kyungsoo. “Before we do can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” Kyungsoo gravitates towards him, seeking skin again and Jongin automatically makes room for him to tuck in.

“Tell me the truth. How did you know to make the diamond for me?”

The air leaves Kyungsoo’s lungs in a faint whine to rest against Jongin’s nape. “This is embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“I…” Kyungsoo finally raises his head, looking Jongin in the eye. “I didn’t. I just… You remember when I pushed you out of the way in the alley? I first recognized it then. Your magic. And I guess I just -stop smiling- I hoped I’d see you again. I was waiting.”

Jongin draws the covers up in a big sweep, covering them both in a cocoon and rolling on top of his bedmate, ignoring his blush. “Do Kyungsoo, most powerful of witches, magitechnician extraordinaire… Did you like me the moment you saw me?”

Kyungsoo squirms valiantly, attempting everything including tickling Jongin’s sides but eventually he succumbs to the warm length of their bodies pressed against each other and wraps his arms around Jongin’s torso, hugging him close. “Maybe.”

Jongin rocks his armful gleefully, peppering Kyungsoo’s neck with kisses. He only pauses when Kyungsoo shifts below him, thighs spreading so that Jongin sinks between them and-

Oh.

Jongin pulls back slightly to the sight of a flushed, bed-headed Kyungsoo looking up at him with open affection. “I’m sure the vampires can entertain themselves a little longer,” Kyungsoo says quietly, giving a slight buck of his hips to slide their cocks together. Jongin bends down slowly and kisses him, rolling his whole body slowly, deliberately against Kyungsoo's until he draws out a gasp from the other. It sounds like heaven.

Jongin eventually breaks their mouths apart with a faint damp pop, hovering only a fraction away. “You know they’ll hear us even if we’re quiet.”

“I don’t care.” Kyungsoo's plush mouth curves wickedly against Jongin’s lips. “Show me a different kind of power.”

And so Jongin does.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> (Prompt: (dystopia!au) - Magical Spells are powerful, but they take time and care to be executed. Not all that practical in a lawless world where witches need to defend themselves. What's more helpful than spells? Well, a pistol, for example. A rifle imbued with magic, and guns shooting bullets of fire and ice. A is a newbie witch in town and someone points him to the workshop nestled into a forgotten apartment building, to the best magitechnician called Kyungsoo. Rating: R (18+ with no explicit smut).
> 
> [Author's Note: Although not specifically named in any official terms, Kyungsoo in this fic quietly identifies as (a sex-positive) asexual. I thought this prompt with it's specifically stated rating would be a good opportunity to healthily showcase a particular part of the ace spectrum that can often be misunderstood. So if you've made it this far, thank you! <3]


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